


Always in This Twilight

by jennandblitz



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Deviates From Canon, Epic Bromance, Epic Friendship, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Everyone Is Alive, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Hogwarts Era, How I Wish Things Had Gone, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kissing, M/M, MWPP, Marauders, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Masturbation, POV Remus Lupin, POV Sirius Black, Questioning Sexuality, R/S - Freeform, Slow Burn, Wolfstar - Freeform, canon to a point, jily, peter exists, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2019-10-21 15:09:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 58,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17645147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandblitz/pseuds/jennandblitz
Summary: Remus Lupin thought he would never be able to go to Hogwarts. Sirius Black knew it was his fate from the moment he understood the word. But meeting each other on the train in September 1971 sets in motion something neither of the boys could ever expect and it changes their futures in the most spectacular ways.(if you think there's a tag missing/something I've overlooked, please get in touch - either comments or on tumblr (jennandblitz) and I can update things!)





	1. The Changeling - The Doors - 1st Year

Hogwarts seemed like an entirely improbable existence for Remus Lupin.

A werewolf from five years old, homeschooled and protected so fiercely by his parents that he found the idea of being out of their cottage for more than a few hours laughable.

Hope always tried to make his life as normal as possible, but Remus wasn't stupid. Even at five years old, he wasn't stupid. He could tell his mother was so incredibly sorry that her son was now some horrible Dark Creature; not a part of her world, but barely even a part of her husband's world either. Lyall was a bastion of quiet strength, a former household name in eradicating the very things his son now turned into every month. But he didn't let his prejudices get in the way of his love for his only son. Because for the vast majority of the lunar cycle, Remus John Lupin was still a young boy.

That didn't mean Lyall wasn't protective to a fault, though. Around the moon, Remus was barely allowed out of the house and, of course, as a child, that made making friends almost impossible. How could he keep up with the normal talk of toys and football and who started a fight with whom in the local playground last week when he disappeared for a week and came back with another mangled set of scars on his scrawny body? It was laughable to think of anything outside of the cottage.

He would've almost been lonely, if it wasn't for the endless amount of literature he consumed. As soon as Remus was able to read, he did so with voracity. He was desperate for other worlds besides the one where he was a monster, and he lived through those damn books. Remus was mildly obsessed with both _Le Fantôme de l'Opéra_ by Gaston Leroux - albeit the English translation - and _Frankenstein_ by Mary Shelley. He couldn't put either of them down, rereading them almost feverishly and wondering if he might ever become the title of a novel about the hideous nature of man and all of its problems. He knew there were plenty of books about Dark Creatures. He had read them in his father's study when he crept in there late at night; but there was something terrifying about the prose of both of the novels that struck him to his core.

Remus read many other books as well, where none of the characters were disfigured, and there were gangs of friends off on merry adventures and happy endings and, very occasionally, love. He would rather live in those books than the other two, but they always drew him back.

So when the Hogwarts letter arrived, piercing through his mediocre existence of scars, pain and pretend worlds, Remus naturally assumed he was dreaming, or perhaps he had slipped getting out of the bath after a painful moon and was in some kind of wonderful coma. He didn't know Dumbledore had arrived at their cottage at the beginning of summer for stern discussions with Lyall. He didn't know Hope had spent weeks convincing Lyall to let him go to Hogwarts, desperate to give her baby boy a chance to fit in _somewhere_.

Remus just assumed it had been a mistake or a tear in his reality; an alternate universe, some cosmic joke that would right itself forthwith. If Remus was even slightly self-aware, he would've ridiculed himself for being an 11-year-old with a vocabulary that included _forthwith_ , but yet, his vocabulary also included words like _Christ alive,_ and _shit_ and _fuck_.

The reality never came, though, and Hogwarts appeared on the horizon in late August 1971 after a day of tension in Diagon Alley, scraping together Galleons to provide him with a seemingly endless list of school supplies. Money was tight after Lyall retired, and Remus knew that. He had seen a lifetime of counting money out secretly, when his parents thought he had gone to bed, discussing a new treatment and patching up robes by the dim light next to his mother's desk. But Remus kept quiet.

Remus never said much at all. Armed with a book for the train, the young werewolf had fully intended to get by at Hogwarts without anyone knowing a scrap of information about him. Hope and Lyall ushered him through the wall to Platform 9 3/4 and Remus' jaw dropped. There were so many people, louder than anything he had ever heard. He almost wanted to cover his ears from the din, but he resisted. He didn't want to miss a moment of this. Who knew how long he had before it all got ripped away from him? Remus took a deep breath through his nose and the smell of magic itched the inside of his sinuses. It wasn't a common smell, but he knew it well enough from the odd charm Lyall used around the house. He said goodbye to his parents after too many assertions from Lyall to stay out of trouble, for Merlin's sake.

The moon was due in four days. Remus could feel it in his blood, the quiet hum of an animal pacing in its cage; he hungered for red meat, he wanted to run laps, he wanted to skip the confines of the train and run to Hogwarts with eyes flashing bright, but he couldn't. Instead, he ducked onto the train, struggling to contain his limbs, and started down the carriages to look for somewhere quiet to bury himself in books. Remus felt betrayed by his body at every turn, but today the nerves seemed too much. Along with the pent up energy of the wolf, his skin felt too small, his head felt too big and his mind was foggy with the need to run and play and _hunt_.

That was a new one. He had never felt the urge to tear through the undergrowth after a scent until the last moon. Sure, the wolf tracked things, but it was with the idle pleasure of a puppy, following out of intrigue. But now it seemed sinister. He wanted to scent and chase and hunt and bite and tear and- Remus stopped dead, smacking into the back of a taller student he hadn't seen.

"Oh- oh, sorry," he mumbled, drawing his shoulders up around his ears and reaching for the door to his side, just to get out of the firing line. Remus didn't look the taller student in the eye; they towered above him. He didn't want to get into trouble on the first train ride, and his father had told him again and again just to keep his head down. He stumbled into the compartment, fumbling the door shut behind him, and came face to face with a small blonde boy with eyes the size of saucers. The wolf shuddered under his skin and Remus suppressed the urge to sniff the air like it wanted him to. He offered the boy a tiny smile and slid into the seat nearest the door, trying to make himself as small as possible.

"Hello," the blonde boy offered after a moment, still staring with saucer-wide eyes, his voice squeaking through the awkward air.

Remus nodded back, unsure of what to do next. No one had ever spoken to him first, and not in the genial way the other boy had. "Hi…” he trailed back, sliding his book open on his lap.

Silence reigned for a moment, both of the boys too shy to say anything. Remus tried to dive headfirst into his book to avoid the assault on his senses: the sounds, the sights, the smells, all the people. He just wanted to be in the woods at the back of his house, climbing trees and reading Tolkien for the millionth time. Or already at Hogwarts, seeking out the library and losing himself in those books instead.

"Pete, mate, there you are! I thought I'd bloody missed you!"

A voice boomed through the compartment and made Remus nearly jump out of his skin. He wondered for a moment quite how someone with a wolf brewing under his skin could be so woefully unaware of his surroundings before Remus remembered the boy in the doorway. He had a shock of black hair and dark rimmed glasses as thick as some of the books in Remus' bag and sported a wide grin at the blonde boy.

"I got here early," the other boy, Pete apparently, offered. Remus noted he looked immediately more comfortable. The air in the compartment seemed to thin dramatically. "Figured if I stayed still you'd track me down eventually, or we'd just be like ships in the night."

The other boy seemed appeased and straightened up, puffing out his chest as he turned to Remus. Remus glanced away, back to his book and wondered which of his many physical flaws the boy would comment on first. Instead, though, a hand was thrusted under his nose - an eleven-year-old facsimile of an adult handshake - and that voice boomed again.

"James Fleamont Potter, nice to meet you mate, you're a first year, yeah? Me too, and Pete here, Peter Pettigrew." He paused, barely taking a breath to glance at Peter over his shoulder. "You got a middle name Pete? Why has that never come up in conversation before? Anyway-" he turned back to Remus- "sorry you got stuck with him, he's a riot eh? This compartment is the party compartment by the looks of it! Where's the music eh? What's that you're reading? Looks complicated, not a school book though eh? Have you read any of our textbooks yet? I'm on a second read through of the Transfiguration book myself, Dad says-"

James' rant was cut off by Pete carefully clearing his throat, a knowing smile on his lips. The bridge of James' nose turned red and his grin shone even wider. "Sorry, mate, turns out I ramble a bit." He gestured slightly with his hand still held out to Remus. "James Potter, like I said."

Remus cleared his throat and took the boy's hand, like he had seen his father do to the Healer that occasionally darkened their doorstep. "Remus… Lupin, hi."

"Remus! Nice to meet you mate, really is. What a name eh? I bloody love it! Nearly as good as Fleamont! That's my Dad, family tradition or something, his name is my middle name. Suppose I'll do the same when I have a son huh?"

Peter laughed as James slid into the seat next to him, pushing his glasses back onto his nose with a well practised move of the back of his hand. Peter smiled nicely at Remus. "He really does ramble a lot, but it's nice to meet you Remus."

Remus just nodded back, still hit by the barrage of words that is James Potter. He'd never had so much directed at him before. Remus wasn't even sure if he'd ever heard that many words all at once, but here he was, looking at James Potter's insane grin and the quiet reassurance of Peter Pettigrew at his shoulder. Remus found a smile on his lips and dog-eared the corner of his book to mark the place. "You too, Peter…”

There was but a second of silence before James took a breath and launched into his next tirade. Remus caught something about Quidditch, and Peter answered back just as animatedly. Remus had heard Quidditch on the wireless, but couldn't say the first thing about any of the tactics or teams the other two seem so invested in. Nevertheless, the book on Remus' lap stayed closed, and he was happy just to listen to a conversation between the two boys. He'd never heard so many words before, or heard two children his age talk the way these two did, with no punches to the arm or puerile insults, and it almost made him want to scream.

Remus was saved from that thought by a literal scream that came from the corridor. The three of them turned towards it, and Peter issued a noise that might be more at home on the tongue of a rodent. A moment later, a black haired boy strode in to view of the frosted glass in the door, arms folded across his chest, mouth set in a stern line. Two girls followed close behind him, one with startling blonde hair and the other with darker hair, and Remus couldn't help but notice the same stern set of the older girls' mouth. Remus felt for a moment that they shouldn't have been staring, but the glass in the doorway made it seem like a television and he couldn't quite look away.

"You take that back, Sirius!" The first girl shouted, her voice oddly muffled and distorted by the glass door between them all.

The young boy turned, the sneer still on his lips. "Piss off, Cissy, I don't want to bloody sit with you anyway! So piss off!"

The girl named Cissy - the blonde one, apparently - made a noise similar to when one found dog muck on a favourite shoe and her arm twitched. The young boy flinched - the barest hint of drawn up shoulders, a face turned slightly away - but recovered in a second. The dark haired girl grabbed the blonde, a hand on her shoulder meant to placate. She muttered something the boys in the compartment couldn't hear before the two girls turned on their heels to start back down along the train. The boy was left standing in the hallway, arms crossed around his stomach, mouth still twisted in that haughty sneer. A moment passed in the compartment before James stood and moved to the door.

"Hey, mate, want to come and sit with us?" His voice was jovial and cheery and he had that damn grin fixed onto his face, but it didn't seem to reach the sneering boy. The boy turned and fixed James with a look that didn't seem to faze him either.

Remus thought for a moment that James wouldn't even get wet in a thunderstorm if he shouldn't like to be damp. Instead, James stepped into the corridor and shut the door behind him, closing the gap between him and the other boy in a quick stride. Remus watched avidly, with the unrestrained fervour of someone having never seen a conversation so up close. But he couldn't hear the words between them, only watch the haughty boys face change from wary to relieved. James stuck out his hand in that facsimile handshake and the other boy finally took it, a soft smile spreading across his lips. James turned and strode into the compartment like he owned the place - which in all honesty, he may as well have done - and grinned at the two boys suddenly pretending they weren't staring avidly through the glass.

"This is Pete, and this is Remus," James said genially, gesturing to the two boys in turn.

Remus offered what he hoped is a kind smile as Pete did something similar.

"Hello," the black haired boy uttered, his voice stiff and lilting in an accent Remus had not heard before. "I'm Sirius Black."

James sank into a seat, gesturing for Sirius to sit next to him, and immediately drew the boy into a conversation about Quidditch. Sirius talked as if he was not used to conversation either, and Remus found himself smiling softly to see some manner of his flaws reflected in others.

After a time, James drew Remus into the conversation too, if only for the odd affirmative hum or smile at a joke he didn't quite understand. But James persisted nonetheless, as if they were already lifelong friends. He worked at Sirius more than he did Remus; constantly talking to the boy, hanging on to every common denominator between them. Remus found himself envious of the ease with which James Potter held himself.

James kept the three of them close in the painfully long boat ride up to Hogwarts, the moon hanging over Remus like some awful spectre that made his skin crawl and a howl bubble in his throat. He stayed quiet, drawing his cloak around his ears and watching the lights from a distance. Sirius kept his chin tilted up, his shoulders thrown back, and Remus found he couldn't quite look away from the way the moonlight played across the angles of his face: those high, aristocratic cheekbones, the straight nose, those glittering grey eyes, the moonlight in stripes across his inky black hair. He had never seen someone look so otherworldly.

Everyone in his hometown was decidedly plain looking. Lyall stood out because of his height, and Remus didn't leave the house enough to stand out himself. Peter looked sort of plain, if you didn't notice the brightness in his eyes, the eagerness to please and be a part of things. James stood out, but not for his looks. He stood out because of his attitude, his actions, the way he greeted every other first year waiting for the boats with a wide grin and a handshake, always talking and chattering away.

But _Sirius_ , he stood out. He looked like a tiny adult, as opposed to an eleven year old: straight back, straight nose, straight expression as if any emotion at all was a bad thing. Remus couldn't look away. He was so struck by the idea of having friends, and perhaps these three boys - James with his unwavering kindness, Peter with his endless reserves of loyalty, and Sirius with that desperately sharp wit - would be his friends. He couldn't look away from the three of them, so so scared to even let himself think, let himself feel - but maybe they would be friends. Sirius had spoken to James only during the journey, already in hushed whispers as if the two of them were joined at the hip, but perhaps he and Sirius could be friends too? Sirius had smiled at Remus several times throughout the train journey after all, and that was more than anyone but James had done for him before.

 

In the Great Hall _Black, Sirius_ was called only a few names into the register, and Remus found himself holding his breath. On the train ride, Sirius had told them briefly of the Black family history: every single one of them sorted into Slytherin. He had alluded to the fact he did not want to follow suit, almost too scared to admit it out loud. There had been a glimmer of hope in his grey eyes as they talked, four eleven year old boys all terrified and excited, learning the intricacies of conversation and strangers. But James, ever unfazed by everything, was adamant he would be in Gryffindor, which meant Peter was too. Remus didn't know where he would end up. To an extent he didn't care; he was trying to remain as passive as possible. He tried so hard not to get attached to the three boys he shared the train compartment with. They would lose interest anyway, he reasoned as soon as they stepped off the train.

But he watched Sirius Black so incredibly carefully. He could see his mouth moving, murmuring to the Sorting Hat with a glint of desperation in his eyes as the minutes rang on and on. The echoing shout of _‘Gryffindor'_ rung through the Great Hall and Remus instantly saw the look of terror on the raven-haired boys face.

A moment of silence, a moment that seemed to stretch for an hour, and then James whooped and clapped. Then the moment was gone and there was the usual cheering of the crowd, with Sirius sliding off the chair, and shooting James a smile.

Next out of the four was _Lupin, Remus_. Remus swallowed, eyes fixed to the ground as he trudged up the steps and slid onto the stool. The hat fell onto his head, musty, hot and heavy. Silence. Then a soft voice.

"Ooh, there's a lot here to unpack, Remus Lupin. I see that thirst for knowledge, that voracious appetite you shove away."

Remus shrugged, he didn't care. He told himself he didn't care, even as his amber gaze flickered over to the Gryffindor table; to proud Sirius Black, hunching over the table, trying to disappear into the woodwork, then to messy haired James Potter waiting in the crowd with a wide unfailing grin, to eager Peter Pettigrew, looking up at his childhood friend with wonder.

"Oh, but then…” the hat continued, "there is a stubbornness in you, Lupin, you already deal with so much, no? You are terrified…” Remus wanted to interrupt. He was not scared! Not one bit! "-but here you are. I see what you want, what you need, so then it will be - _Gryffindor!"_  The last word boomed across the hall and Remus let out a shaky breath. He slipped from the stool and hurried to the Gryffindor table, desperate to be out of the eye of the storm, in front of everyone else. Sirius smiled and nodded to the seat opposite him. Remus sank into the seat and studied the woodwork of the table, cheeks flaming red. The Sorting carried on around them, others joining their table, but Remus just sat and waited, occasionally glancing up to see Sirius doing the same. Sirius smiled softly and continued picking at the varnish on the table, watching with a hint of desperation as James stood in the crowd.

 _Pettigrew, Peter_ was next. The hat sat on his straw blonde hair for such a long time Remus wondered if it was broken. He could hear the second year next to him whispering furiously to her friend - _Has it ever not sorted anyone before? Where do they go? Do they just get to pick? Would he have to go home? Poor lamb, he's as red as a stop sign_ \- and he tried to tune it out, knowing he shouldn't be able to hear their conversation with the ease he did. Sirius didn't seem to care one jot about anything other than picking the varnish on the table. At long last the hat boomed _‘Gryffindor'_ and Peter practically ran over to the table, clambering onto the bench next to Remus.

"Oh Merlin, I thought I passed out for a minute there," he muttered, red faced. Remus could hear his heart pounding and practically tasted the blood on his tongue. He swallowed back a growl and looked back at the table. Sirius had started to make a shape in the table with his fingernail but said nothing.

 _Potter, James_ was the last to be called, and he strode up to the stool as if he were strolling onto his hundredth Quidditch match as the best Chaser of the century. Sirius perked up and turned his head so fast Remus nearly heard the scrape of vertebrae, watching avidly. The hat barely touched his head before it boomed out _‘Gryffindor'_ and James made his way over with the same spring in his step.

"We made it, lads, all four of us!" He settled into the seat next to Sirius and Remus watched with a pang of jealousy when Sirius smiled back. "What are the chances, eh? Nice one! Gryffindor lads, hopefully we'll have a dorm together, eh, there can't be that many other Gryffindor boys in this year? We're the cream of the crop obvio-"

Once again James Potter was cut off by a sharp shush further up the table, and he immediately sank into his seat, the redness settling over the bridge of his nose again. Peter rolled his eyes at the well-worn situation before him. Sirius grinned a ridiculous grin and elbowed James furiously in the side. Remus smiled behind his hand and felt for the first time in his life that he might actually just be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to [letsdothepanic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/letsdothepanic/pseuds/letsdothepanic) for the wonderful beta of this chapter!


	2. Monolith - T. Rex - 1st Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> slight mentions of child abuse in this chapter, no specifics but look after yourself if you think that might not be good for you!

He had pleaded at first.

A low steady beat of syllables spilling from his lips like a prayer, gaze obscured by the Sorting Hat, ears muffled, pulse heavy and throbbing on his tongue.

_Please not Slytherin, please not Slytherin, please, please, please._

He thought of Slytherin - Cissy next to her pureblood boyfriend, Bella’s legacy still fresh in most people’s minds, the scars of curses she had left behind, Andy sat next to her sister despite their ever-differing views. He thought of how everything he’d heard of Slytherin had chilled him to the bone, how he was so terrified and desperate for a moment of individuality, away from Walburga’s all-seeing, ice cold gaze.

“Oooh, hello Mister Black, one for tradition, eh?” The Hat rumbled quietly in his ear.

_Please no, not Slytherin. Please no, I’m not like them. I’m not, I can’t be a Slytherin._

Then it switched, after the Hat gave a low chuckle. “Oh no, not Slytherin?”

 _Not Slytherin._ His voice was stronger then. _I won’t do it. If you say Slytherin I’ll sit here and scream until they have to drag me out. I’ll scream and scream and they won’t be able to stop me. I already know some spells, Bella taught me, I’ll hex anyone who tries to drag me to Slytherin. I won’t do it. I won’t, I won’t._

“But a Black, not in Slytherin?”

 _Piss off,_ he had thought vehemently. _I’m not a Slytherin, and I wish I weren’t a Black. I won’t do it. You can’t make me, I’ll fight them all off. I’m not scared of them, I won’t do it. I’m not a Slytherin, and I wish I weren’t a Black._

“Then there’s only one place for you, boy,” the Hat had hummed, low and conspiratorial in his ear.

“ _Gryffindor!”_

Oh, Merlin.

 

Sirius Black had actually done it. He had actually made it out of Slytherin.

Maybe it wasn’t as all hopeless as it had first seemed. The idea of Slytherin had always terrified him from the very first moment he heard about it, sat in Orion’s study with Regulus, listening to his father rave about the long lines of pureblood wizards Slytherin had produced. He had seen paintings and photographs of the common room and the dungeons they inhabited from others, but it had filled Sirius with fear. He’d heard descriptions of the house and all of its residents from Bella and Cissy and Andy, and Father had forced him and Regulus to listen, to learn the house they were going to inhabit, another step on the Black ladder.

Hogwarts was the place he was supposed to be able to escape his parents, their iron rule, Orion’s voice shaking the rafters and the rap of Walburga’s ring against his cheekbone. But the dungeons and the Slytherin common room looked just like Grimmauld Place, opulent and cold, grey flagstones spreading for miles. Sirius could practically see his blood spattered on them, a matted knot of black hair strewn on the floor. Every time he looked at the flagstones he saw himself laying there waiting for the pain to stop. He couldn’t imagine going to sleep every night in a place that reminded him of that, the waters of the Great Lake just beyond the wall, frigid like the water Kreacher cast over the flagstones, like the cold showers in Grimmauld Place.

But he wasn’t going to be there, with the endless flagstones, opulent, cold, green and silver.

Instead Sirius Black was climbing the stairs towards Gryffindor Tower, towards red and gold, towards lions and bravery, with quite possibly the first real friend he had ever had. James Potter had kept up a steady ramble of conversation all through the feast, and had yet to let up for breath.

“Have you seen the new Chaser for Puddlemere? He’s something else, I can tell ‘ya, Dad took me to one of their test matches this summer and some of the moves he had pulled were absolutely amazing. There was one, honestly, I remember it like it was yesterday, seared in my bloody brain it is. I tried to recreate it myself back home but it was a little hard with the size of the garden and the fact that Pete here was the other Chaser, but still, he threw the quaffle into the air a-”

“And here we are, Gryffindor common room,” The Prefect announced, effectively cutting over James’ talking. He had introduced himself earlier, and Sirius had all but forgotten his name thanks to the incessant voice in his head convincing him it was all a mistake and the Slytherins were about to accost him in the hallway and drag him back to where he belonged.

But Sirius wanted to stay, he wanted to stay in red and gold and lions and friends. Remus and Peter were a step behind them after giving up trying to walk four-abreast on a particular staircase. Sirius glanced over his shoulder and smiled briefly at them both, fascinated by everything.

Before Hogwarts, he had only been friends with pureblood children, and they had been treated entirely like little adults. Sirius, of course, had rebelled as much as he could by making messes and refusing to do as he was told, but the freedom of Hogwarts was terrifying and exhilarating at the same time.

His new friends were included in that. Remus was a half-blood - his mother was a muggle - but he looked human to Sirius! True, he looked a little skinny and his robes weren’t as pristine as the ones that James and Sirius wore. But that definitely wasn’t what his mother meant whenever she spoke of the _filthy, degenerate, disgusting half-bloods_. Sirius had expected them to have two heads, or be severely disfigured and unsightly. But Remus just looked like another boy.

Peter and James too, they were from wizarding families, and yet, they seemed different. James spoke of his parents like they were _nice_ to him, and took him places and got him things. That baffled Sirius more than his being sorted into Gryffindor.

Once inside the portrait-hole, the password locked into his brain, Sirius looked around the common room in wonder. It looked so cosy, and so inviting and unlike any room Sirius had ever been in before. The Prefect moved onwards, splitting the first year boys - which were only Sirius, James, Remus and Peter, actually, now that they had all split off - away from the rest. James cast a look over at the girls, but Sirius just kept staring around at the room, utterly enthralled.

“C’mon, mate,” James hissed as the others started up the stairs towards the dormitories, and the prefect showed them to the first year rooms. Their trunks were already at the foot of each bed, a fifth left unoccupied.

“Merlin…” James breathed, already going over and flopping bodily onto his bed. He gave an excited squeak when the bed was far bouncier than he thought, and sat back up with a large grin on his face.

Sirius stepped in and Remus edged past him with a shy smile, sitting on the bed next to his trunk. He looked a little bewildered too, and Sirius almost clung to that, the antidote to James’ ability to take everything in his stride. Sirius returned his smile, unused to the feeling of it on his lips, and was rewarded by a soft blush settling across the other boys face.

Remus was so intriguing. Sirius had never seen anyone who looked more interesting. The way his hair seemed to curl in all directions, the soft copper-honeyed colour of it. True, James’ hair seemed unruly to a tee, but not in the same way Remus’ was. It was all over the place, shaggy and curled and messy. Sirius’ appearance had been tightly controlled by his mother back at home, his hair had to be combed just so, his robes just right. He and Regulus were never allowed to play in the sun too long, the Black family complexion had to be upheld after all, and running around outside like half-bloods or, even worse, _muggles,_ was unacceptable.

Sirius had never seen anyone look as shabby as Remus before either. He couldn’t even put a finger on what exactly was making him look shabby, but it was something. The jumper beneath his robes was too big for him, gaping at the neck and falling well past his wrists over his knuckles. SIrius had never had an item of clothing that hadn’t been tailored to his body, even as an 11-year old.

Remus carried himself differently, shoulders all hunched, like he was carrying all the weight of the world on his shoulders. If Sirius slumped like that, he would’ve had it bled out of him with _Diffindo_ before he stepped out of the door. Remus sat, ankles crossed, on his bed, digging through his small rucksack to look for something. He acted like there was no one else in the room, and that was an entirely alien concept to Sirius, who was always hyper-aware when someone else was around him, watching, waiting, on edge.

He wanted to crawl inside Remus’ mind and figure out all of his little workings, the same way concentrating on the exact pattern of his bedspread made him feel better when all he could think of was how much his ribs really hurt. He wanted to unravel the quiet boy who spoke barely two words on the train but smiled so gingerly at him.

As Sirius crossed to his own bed, James sprang back up from his. “We made it, mate! We’re Gryffindors! Knew they weren’t going to make you a snake!”

James threw his hand up for a high five from his newly proclaimed best friend. Sirius saw a flash of Walburga standing over him and flinched wildly. His back hit the post of his bed, eyes wide in terror, shoulders hunched up. Sirius turned his head away slightly, in the split second before he realised he wasn’t going to be slapped to the floor, and clenched his eyes shut, body tense ready for the incoming blows. When they didn’t come, his eyes flew back open and he immediately felt his face flush red with embarrassment.

He gingerly looked back to James, who was staring at him with a strange expression on his face, hand still raised in the air. Sirius’ eyes flickered back and forth between his hand and his face, not too sure what to do. He hadn’t ever been the recipient of a high-five, or the giver of one, for that matter. He blinked hard to get the image of his mother stood over him, hand raised, trying to intimidate an apology out of him, out of his head.

James slowly lowered his hand. His face softened with an expression Sirius didn’t recognise. “It’s alright, mate.”

In the hours he had known James Potter, those were the fewest words he had ever spoke, but they struck Sirius to the core. Perhaps it was alright. Even if James didn’t know the true extent of his words - the fact that it wasn’t really alright at all, and his parents would be utterly furious with him at Christmas and he would have to spend the break hiding away from them. But James Potter made it feel like the world wasn’t about to end.

Sirius wanted to cry in relief.

James sprang back to his bed, flopped down with all the inherent grace of a flobberworm and patted the space next to him. The moment was gone, James wasn’t hung up on it, he didn’t berate Sirius or call him weird or ask him why he’d flinched so wildly when all he wanted was a high five. James simply carried on.

Sirius cast a glance around the room, found Peter peering into his trunk, and Remus already buried in a book. No one else had seen his momentary lapse of sanity then. Sirius rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and sat down next to James.

“Thank you.”

 

It was two weeks later when Sirius walked into the Gryffindor common room and his life was changed once again. Remus and James were up ahead, talking about Transfiguration, and Sirius and Peter were holding a half-assed conversation about Quidditch.

The portrait-hole swung open, and as soon as Sirius had one foot over the threshold, his ears were assaulted with a cacophony of sounds he had never heard before. “Merlin, what is that?”

His eyes quickly found the group of third-years stood around a machine. Sirius crossed over and stood by them, mouth agape in awe. It was music, coming from the machine, but unlike any other music he’d heard before. The only music in the Black household was the strictly enforced piano lessons Sirius and Regulus took every week, along with their French and Latin studies, and magical theory. Walburga would not have her sons embarrass the Black name. Maybe occasionally, Sirius would sneak into the parlour and turn on the Wireless, but he was always caught and punished for it.

The Black house was silent, save for the shouting.

James, Remus and Peter joined Sirius around the machine. Remus didn’t seem too enthused by it all, he’d clearly seen one of these machines before, Peter just stood to the side and tried to look nonchalant, and James was utterly unflappable. Even if the common room split open, everyone turned into hippogriffs and began dancing the can can, James would’ve just shrugged and grinned.

“It’s a record player,” the third-year boy told them, and Remus shrugged in a way that said he knew that but he didn’t want to say anything.

“What’s the music?” Sirius asked in response, tucking a strand of his lengthening hair behind his ear. The third-year produced the sleeve of a record and held it out to him. It showed a man, holding a guitar - he recognised that from the classical band at the Black Christmas gathering the year before - stood next to a piece of muggle machinery, the whole thing outlined like it was under one big Lumos charm. “Merlin…” Sirius breathed again, turning the sleeve over in his hands to try and absorb the whole thing directly into his person.

“It’s T. Rex - _Electric Warrior_ ,” the third-year supplied, grinning at the look of rampant curiosity and adoration on Sirius’ face. Sirius sank into a nearby sofa and James perched on the arm to peer over his shoulder at the record.

Remus sat on the middle cushion of the sofa and smiled slightly at Sirius. “My mum has different ones though,” he supplied, jerking his chin towards the record sleeve that Sirius was trying to devour whole with his eyes. “She has the Beatles and the Beach Boys.”

“Are those muggle bands too?” James asked from over Sirius’ shoulder, looking to Remus in wide-eyed awe.

Remus nodded and grinned, “Yeah, they are.” He swallowed a little and a blush crept up out of his collar. Sirius had pinned that particular Remus-ism as one that surfaced when he said more than three words at a time. “I feel like I know something you two don’t when we talk about muggle bands.”

“Well you do!” Sirius exclaimed, finding the printed notes inside the record sleeve. “Merlin,” he breathed again as he noticed a photograph on the notes. “Is that who's singing!?”

The photograph showed a man, stood with his feet wide apart, wearing skin tight trousers and a shirt that was intricate and patterned and open halfway down his chest. His hair was curled and permed and teased to within an inch of his life, his eyes were ringed in black, glittery stars clung to the tops of his cheekbones and his mouth looked shiny and strangely alluring.

“That’s Marc Bolan, the singer,” the third-year supplied, clearly amused by Sirius staring wide-eyed at the tiny black and white photograph.

He was trying to look past the fact that the photograph wasn’t moving, but he was too entranced by this Marc Bolan character. In an instant he wanted to _be_ this man, unafraid of everything, feet planted wide in a stature of defiance, chin tilted up. Sirius decided he would stand that way from now on, channeling his inner Marc Bolan. He looked up to see James grinning inanely and Remus smiling in that strange, quiet way he always did. Peter was next to James, stood on his tiptoes and trying to elbow his way into the conversation.

“Do you have any more of these?” Sirius asked the third-year.

He chuckled and crossed to the small stack of records next to the player. “Here’s another one you might like, then.” He held another record out to Sirius, who took it eagerly to drink in the art on the cover. It was a man, with long ginger hair, and _Merlin_ , he was wearing a skirt!

The third-year chuckled and Sirius looked up at him, wide-eyed, wondering if this was some strange joke and his mother was about to spring out of the fireplace to backhand him into next week. James peered over his shoulder to look at the photograph and his eyes went wide too. Remus too, for once, seemed to lose his air of detached quiet and his jaw dropped too.

“What are you doing to the first years, Robert?” Gideon Prewett strolled over to the collection of furniture around the record player with an easy grin on his face.

The record-supplying third-year grinned deviously. “Just showing them the record collection Gid.”

James looked up to one half of the infamous Gryffindor twins and his eyes brightened. “Gid! Have you see this? Look at this! This muggle’s wearing robes it looks like, and a skirt! Are you sure he’s a muggle?”

Sirius only half heard his best mate, staring open mouthed at the record, turning it over in his hands, wishing more than anything it was a magical photograph and he could see this strange skirt-wearing man come to life.

Gideon leant over and put his hands on the back of the sofa to peer at the four first-years huddled around the record like a religious idol. “That’s David Bowie, lads. He’s up and coming.”

 

One morning in early October, the four friends were gathered around the breakfast table eating various fried foods and an inordinate amount of toast. Sirius sat in his usual seat next to James, spending today's breakfast elbowing him viciously in the side every time he tried to drink his tea, sending it slopping all over the table. Remus and Peter were opposite them, Remus leant over with one elbow on the table, hunched close to his food.

Sirius had come out of his shell over the past month, he was becoming loud and brash now he was with James, egged on by his winning smile and eagerness to do just about anything. He felt free, knowing that the teachers couldn’t even punish him half as bad as his mother did. All he would get for charming a tidal wave of pumpkin juice in the Great Hall was detention, instead of a battery of _Diffindo_ across the backs of his thighs.

So Sirius might have become a troublemaker, but he was still incredibly empathetic. He had learned years ago to pick up on the emotions of people around him. It was a survival technique, to know when to venture downstairs into the parlour, or try to sneak into the kitchen when he had been dismissed from lunch, or whether he was better hiding out upstairs and chipping away at his stash of hoarded food. His skills had only really been used for his parents and his brother so far - he didn’t really know any other children his age before Hogwarts. But the longer he was at school, the more Sirius could understand his new friends.

And Remus was acting strangely. He seemed on edge, tense, hunched over his food like someone might take it from under his nose. Sirius had felt like that, the first few days, wolfing down his food - just in case he would be banished from the Great Hall for some inexcusable infraction like the splotch of ink on his trousers - but that had eased once he realised no one was going to stop him eating. But Remus was still like that, especially today, his amber eyes dancing all over the room. Sirius smiled kindly at him, wondering if they came from the same places, wondering how much of himself Remus could see in Sirius too.

Sirius was halfway through an incredibly constructed sausage and fried egg sandwich, with toast instead of bread, when the owls swooped in with the morning post. After the first breakfast, where Orion had sent a letter as long as Sirius’ arm, detailing exactly how he was a disappointment to the family, and that he was speaking to Dumbledore in order to deposit him back in his rightful place as a Slytherin and a Black, Sirius hadn’t received a single piece of post. But it was fine, he didn’t care. He didn’t want to speak to his father or mother and was trying to just carry on like normal.

James and Peter received packages quite often from their mothers, home-baked goods and magazines like _Quidditch Monthly_ , and occasionally - to James’ embarrassment - _Witch Weekly_. Sirius tried not to gape every time, amazed by the brazen show of motherly affection. Walburga had never even laid a hand on his shoulder without digging her claws in.

To Sirius’ knowledge, Remus hadn’t received anything since they started Hogwarts either, until that day. A haggard looking grey owl dropped a large package wrapped in brown paper and tape onto Remus’ plate, narrowly avoiding his cornflakes. Remus straightened up, the cloud behind his amber eyes seemed to shift and the tension ran from his shoulders. He carefully peeled away the paper, and Sirius noticed the scars that littered his hands and fingers.

 _Strange,_ Sirius though., Remus didn’t look like the kind to get into fistfights like his mother always said muggles did. Remus smiled slightly, crumpled up the brown paper in one hand and held a stack of parchment out to Sirius with the other.

“Here, you two,” he hummed, dropping the parchment between Sirius and James. Sirius wiped a hand on his trousers and leaned over to peer at them, realising they weren’t parchment at all. “They’re muggle music magazines, called _Disco 45_. I thought you two would like them. My mum had some old issues lying around so I asked her to send them.”

Sirius barely had a chance to note that even Remus’ voice sounded different today for some reason, before the realisation hit him and he tore into the magazines with a fervour only matched by James next to him.

“Merlin’s balls,” Sirius muttered, with a small grin at how proud he was getting away with the curse word. “These are amazing, Rem! Thanks!”

 

Later that night, Sirius squirmed further down into his bed. He’d stayed up late with Gideon Prewett and Robert Sinclair, listening to muggle records and trying to memorise every moment of it. Robert, a muggleborn, had showed him the mail order section in the back of the latest issue of _Disco 45_ and Sirius was already wondering if he could find a record player somewhere in Islington and sneak it back with him.

He couldn’t sleep now, despite how late it was, and how he knew he’d need to get up early tomorrow to scribble together the Transfiguration homework he had been putting off for a week. Sirius tilted his head to the side and watched the clouds roll past the window to his left.

The moon strung pale bars of light through the room, illuminating different parts of it as the clouds rolled past. James, with his face pressed into his pillow and hair at all angles, never slept with the curtains closed - he didn’t understand the concept of personal space or, Morgana forbid, _alone time._ Peter nearly always pulled his curtains shut, but that night his foot stuck out of the side of them, probably closer to where Sirius imagined his arm should lay, and the occasional soft snore rose from within the ruby fabric.

Remus pulled his curtains tightly shut every night, and Sirius was currently trying to decide if he was hearing a soft voice coming from behind them, or whether he had gone truly mad. Giving up all pretence of sleep, Sirius sat up to listen a little closer. He wasn’t going mad, he thought in a moment of jubilation, as he heard what was definitely Remus’ soft voice muttering.

Sirius slipped out of bed and crossed the short distance between the beds. “Remus?” He whispered at the join of the curtains.

The voice stopped immediately and after a moments shuffling, the curtain was drawn back. Remus was sat there, cross legged, his wand issuing a faint light, a book open on his lap. The bags under his eyes were a tired purple darkness, but his actual eyes seemed wide and bright in the midnight light. “Sirius?” He whispered back, voice as soft as the curtains around him.

Sirius crawled onto the bed without being asked and settled at the foot. Remus looked surprised for a moment, but let the curtain fall shut around them. Sirius nodded towards the book. “Were you reading? I heard your voice.”

The familiar Remus-ism of blush creeping above his collar looked significantly less red in the moonlight, but Sirius noticed it nonetheless. Remus swallowed and nodded. “Yeah… didn’t realise I was doing it outloud… Sorry.”

“It’s alright.” Sirius shrugged, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “I couldn’t sleep either.”

Remus made some soft noise of agreement and avoided his gaze. Sirius took the opportunity to really stare at his friend. His assumptions from breakfast were correct - something did seem off about Remus. It was like he filled the space around him a little more, the bed seemed too small for him, but he hadn’t had a growth spurt and he was still as skinny as a rake. It wasn’t a physical thing, somehow. His hands were clenching and unclenching on his knees, and Sirius recognised the telltale signs of just _too much energy_.

Sirius reached forward and tapped the book, face down, still open at the page Remus was on. “What were you reading?”

Remus swallowed again and glanced up to Sirius. His eyes flashed in the light and Sirius fought the urge to flinch, without the slightest clue why. “ _The Hobbit_.” He swallowed again, and after a moment seemed to relax back into his pillow. “Muggle fiction book.”

Sirius nodded, still observing his friend under the relative privacy of night. He thought for a moment that he saw the raised pink of a scar beneath the collar of his pyjamas, usually hidden under his jumper. If he did, Sirius didn’t mention it. He knew what it was like to hide scars. Perhaps they were more alike that he thought.

A smile stuttered onto Sirius’ face. “Will you carry on reading?”

“Outloud?” Remus whispered, looking as if Sirius had just asked him to do twelve laps around the Quidditch pitch on a faulty broom.

“Mhmm,” Sirius tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, “if that’s alright.”

Remus didn’t say anything further, just picked up his book, cleared his throat a little self consciously, and began reading. His voice was hushed, quiet enough not to wake the other boys, but it washed over Sirius. He found his eyes drifting shut and gradually shifted to lie down at the end of Remus’ bed, knees drawn to his chest.

At some point, Remus must’ve stopped reading, because a few hours later, Sirius came awake to him curled at the other end of the bed in a similar position, head pillowed on his arms. Remus stirred awake as Sirius slipped from the curtains to go back to his own bed and gave him a sleepy smile.

The next night, Remus didn’t looked so shocked when Sirius twitched the curtains open and climbed inside. In fact, he’d saved their place in the book from the night before.


	3. Oh! You Pretty Things - David Bowie - 1st Year

The first moon at Hogwarts was utterly terrifying.

Remus had only been off the train four days. He naturally assumed that as soon as he stepped into the Hospital Wing like Professor McGonagall had instructed him to, a plethora of Aurors and Police Officers would jump out at him and drag him back to the tiny village in Wales and away from the splendour of Hogwarts. He regularly wanted to just burst into tears with the overwhelming nature of it all, the Great Hall, the moving staircases, the portraits, the dorms, the way the the whole castle was endlessly welcoming and comfortable, the way the whole place just seemed _alive_ with people in a way that Remus had never felt before.

And his friends. If he could call them that - Remus had never had friends before now. But James Potter hadn’t left his side and that meant Peter Pettigrew and Sirius Black weren’t far behind him either. Strangely enough, Remus found that if he thought too long about having to leave Hogwarts, as he suspected he would eventually, then it was his friends he lamented the loss of most.

So that was why, after dinner, the four of them traipsing up the staircases back to Gryffindor Tower, Remus didn’t say anything when he simply peeled off from the rest of the group towards the Hospital Wing. Sirius and James were in deep conversation - Remus wasn’t sure James had even drawn breath in the last four days. But actually, now he was away from it, Remus found he missed the other boy’s incessant chatter.

The corridor outside the Hospital Wing was quiet. It was a Sunday night after all, Quidditch practice hadn’t started yet - according to James - and so Remus took a moment and leant against a large window just outside the door. The moon hung bright in the sky, as if taunting Remus with the silvery light it filtered over his skin. Remus clenched his jaw and felt the moon pull at the tides of his body, tugging at his insides, swirling around, clenching every bit of him.

The urges were still so new, the rampant insistence on his insides to go, to _run_ , to _hunt_ , to- Remus didn’t want to think about the other ones. His teeth felt too numerous for his mouth, too sharp, cutting at the inside of his mouth and tongue, and Remus had to swallow repeatedly to try and keep down the howl lingering in his throat. He took one last, lingering look around the halls of Hogwarts before closing his eyes, letting the sounds of all the chatter and the laughter and all of the _people_ wash over him, and stepping into the Hospital Wing.

Professor McGonagall was there, along with a witch whom he assumed was Madame Pomfrey. Remus shuffled in, tucking his hands up into the sleeves of his shirt, and felt a little under scrutiny at the kind smiles on the women’s faces. There were no Aurors or Police Officers leaping out of the cupboard by the door quite yet, but perhaps they would be waiting for him wherever they would go next. Remus was so used to the Lupin’s cellar that he couldn’t imagine the wolf being locked up in a room off the Hospital Wing, or in some abandoned corridor on the third floor or anything like that. The dungeons seemed most likely, but even then they felt a little too populated to be safe. Remus hoped the adults had a concrete plan, but the older he got, the less likely that seemed. Perhaps, even, the adults had no clue what they were doing either, and that was an utterly terrifying concept.

“Good evening, Mr. Lupin,” Professor McGonagall said curtly, but there was a warmth to her voice.

Remus glanced behind him, wondering why his father would be here, surely the staff at Hogwarts were better equipped for locking him up than his own father was? But the space behind his shoulder was empty and Remus swiftly realised the Professor was talking to him. He flushed scarlet and offered a tiny smile back to the witches.

“Mr Lupin, this is Madame Pomfrey.”

The other witch also smiled, a little wider and warmer than Professor McGonagall. “Hello Remus.”

“Hi…” Remus intoned back, at first unaware that he probably should say something a little more respectful to the older woman - say something like ‘nice to meet you’ or ‘hello ma’am’ or just something more than ‘hi’ - but then it was out of his mouth and he was shifting uncomfortably on the spot.

McGonagall smiled and fussed a little at the brooch on her robes. “Shall we make our way, then?”

Remus just nodded, compulsively swallowing back another howl, and stepped in line behind Madame Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall.

Out on the grounds, the moonlight seemed to burn even more and Remus hunched his shoulders up towards his ears, amber eyes flickering around through the trees. The grounds were reasonably quiet - it was getting late, a little close to curfew, and it was still early in the term. People were probably inside, tucked away against the cold and catching up with friends from over the summer.

Remus wondered if he would be back next year, doing the same, tucked up in the Gryffindor common room with Sirius sprawled on the rug by the fire, his head on Remus’ feet, James with his legs flung over the side of an armchair, Peter hunched over his chess set thinking of new moves. Would he get that? Would they allow him back even after the summer? Would he even make it past this full moon? McGonagall and Pomfrey would see what the wolf was _really_ like, and then Dumbledore would decide he wasn’t allowed at Hogwarts after all.

The witches stopped abruptly, and Remus had to pull up short to stop just walking straight into Madame Pomfrey. He turned and saw the large tree at the edge of the grounds - James had called it the Whomping Willow, hadn’t he? It had only appeared at Hogwarts this year, according to him.

Remus blinked, and then there was a tabby cat where Professor McGonagall stood. He was vaguely astonished - he had heard that his Head of House was an Animagus, but hadn’t actually _seen_ it. He couldn’t wait to tell his friends, though the thought didn’t enter his mind that he would have to explain _why_ he was with Professor McGonagall by the Whomping Willow at night.

Remus watched with the wolf’s keen eyes, mouth agape, as the tabby leapt through the sweeping branches of the Willow to press something there. The wolf rumbled under his collarbones. It wanted to run and chase and grab the cat in its jaws and shake and he could practically _taste_ the blood. The tree stilled and then Madame Pomfrey put a hand on Remus’ shoulder to guide him through towards the trunk of the tree. He swallowed back the wolf and shook his head a little.

Remus felt like he was watching himself from another vantage point as Professor McGonagall met them at the base of the Willow, back in her tartan cloak. The two witches lead him to a passageway hidden by the roots of the tree, and Remus ducked through, looking around in awe. The passageway came up into the hallway of a small ramshackle house. McGonagall lead the way up a set of stairs to a small bedroom. The newness of the single bed and the crisp sheets there stood out in the broken, dusty mess of the rest of the room.

Madame Pomfrey gave him a kind smile that struck Remus’ insides. It felt like no one had really ever looked at him so kindly. “You’ll be okay here, will you Remus? I’ll come and collect you just after dawn, see what we need to do to fix you up.”

Remus’ gaze flickered between the two witches, was this a trick? When were the Aurors and the Police Officers going to take him away? “I- um,” he swallowed back another howl, trying again to speak instead of just growl. “It w-won’t be able to hurt anyone? It won’t get out?”

Something flickered over both of the witches faces, and Remus watched McGonagall’s brow soften slightly. “No, Mr Lupin, it’s quite safe here, you won’t be able to get out.”

“O-Okay. Good.” He swallowed again, brow furrowing for a moment at the course of pain through his veins, it wouldn’t be long now. “Thank you.”

Madame Pomfrey put a hand on his shoulder again and squeezed slightly, before both of the witches stepped back, heading towards the passageway. Remus sank onto the bed and pretended he couldn’t hear their conversation with the wolf’s ears.

“And you’ll send a Patronus if anything is wrong in the morning, Poppy?” A pause, a noise of assent. “I’ll stay awake, anyway, just for this first time, make sure everything goes accordingly.” Another moment of quiet.

“He’s so young, Minerva, just a boy.” Another noise of assent. Remus let his head drop into his hands and shuddered at the burning of the moonlight. “It’s such a shame.”

Their voices faded back through the passageway and Remus was left alone. He could hear the faint snuffles of wildlife on the edges of the Forest, he could smell the fire at Hagrid’s hut, and when the wind shifted, he could taste the lingering scent of dinner from the Great Hall.

The silence was deafening.

James was not there to talk incessantly about Puddlemere’s chances this year, nor was Sirius repeating all the dirty words Remus and Peter had taught him on their first day, nor was Peter chortling with laughter as he sorted through a bag of Bertie’s Beans and tricked the others into eating the disgusting ones.

Remus wondered if he might cry, if it weren’t for the wolf bubbling under his skin, desperately clawing its way out. The wolf left no room for emotions, only snarling fury and the rising need to get free and hunt and run and bite. Remus stood up abruptly and tugged off his clothes, neatly folding them and setting them on a high shelf hopefully out of the way of the wolf. That was the first thing his mother had taught him to do with the moon hanging over him. The clothes were too costly to keep repairing when they had been ripped to shreds by the wolf.

So Remus stripped and sat on the hard floorboards and swallowed down another howl. Being inside his body felt like watching a pot of water coming to a boil. The bubbles started slowly, in his fingertips, at the base of his spine, then grew, roiling and spilling until Remus couldn’t hold back the scream that boiled over from his lips.

He panted, trying to breathe through the pain, but the moonlight was burning and it felt like every bit of his body was breaking apart, splitting at the seams. Remus clenched his eyes shut and scrabbled against the floor to try and find purchase on something when the whole world was spinning. He was vaguely aware when the scream in his throat finally morphed into a howl.

 

Remus came back to his body at dawn, aching and bloodied.

It wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been, perhaps the new environment, all the new things to sniff out and mark, had kept the wolf reasonably busy. But that didn’t mean Remus had gotten away scot-free. His arms and legs were covered in scratches, a bite around one ankle that was oozing thick blood, almost congealing. Remus rolled gingerly onto his back, grimacing at the apparently open wounds on his shoulders, and began to check that he still had all of his limbs.

He’d been cataloguing his body after the full moon since he was old enough to remember, convinced that one day he’d be a limb short or unable to feel anything beyond his waist. But today - what was it, the 6th of September 1971? - he had two arms, two legs, hands and feet, two eyes, a nose, all ten fingers and toes, if a little bloodied.

Remus let out a long breath and cracked one eye open. The sheets had all been torn from the bed, ripped into shreds and strewn across the room. The door the two witches had left through the night before had several large gouges in it, as well as a splattering of blood. Remus glanced down and saw his fingernails were bloodied and ripped. Usually Remus’ nails were bitten to the quick - a nasty habit, his father said - but the wolf must’ve tried particularly hard to escape and explore its new confines and this time they were all hanging raggedly from his fingers, blood covered.

Remus gingerly shifted and tested his shoulders, rolling one and then the other. The right one gave a particularly loud crack and a grinding noise for a moment, but then it seemed to settle. He was damn tired but otherwise in tact. Satisfied he wasn’t going to imminently bleed to death, Remus laid back down on the hard floorboards and closed his eyes.

Madame Pomfrey roused him a short time later with a gentle hand on his shoulder. She handed him a large fluffy blanket and Remus suddenly found it within himself to feel embarrassed as he wrapped the blanket around his shoulders and stood on shaky legs to redress. Madame Pomfrey waited with a kind smile and guided him back along towards Hogwarts with a supportive hand under his elbow. Her mouth was pressed in a thin line and Remus worried he might’ve done something wrong. He pressed his own lips into a tight line and tried not to think about how lonely the journey back to Wales would be.

Back in the Hospital Wing, Madame Pomfrey cast a heating charm on his blankets and brought him a steaming mug of hot chocolate before she set about healing his wounds. His ankle had swollen quite considerably around the teeth marks, but Remus soon realised that Madame Pomfrey was a better healer than his mother or father, and the bloodied gouges were reduced to light pink scars in mere moments.

Remus bit his lip and studied the witch with a look of awe he didn’t even try to hide. Maybe things wouldn’t be so bad after all. He cleared his throat and tested the words on his tongue before he spoke, his throat sore, voice hoarse. “It didn’t get out, did it? Didn’t hurt anyone?”

Madame Pomfrey gave him a smile that curled a little sad at the corners and patted his calf. “No, Remus. No one got hurt - except you of course, but I’m doing what I can to fix that.”

Remus quickly looked back to the bedsheets and studied them intently, trying not to think about the tears that were clinging to his lower lashes. Even his mother had flinched away in the hours after the full moon, letting his father tend to the wounds with a few hastily cast healing spells before leaving him to recuperate. Even as an 11-year old, Remus knew they did not want to see him like that. He didn’t either, but every 28 days he didn’t really have much choice.

By lunchtime, Madame Pomfrey had let Remus out of the Hospital Wing, on the assertion that he would go straight back to his dormitory and sleep for the rest of the afternoon. She’d already informed Professor McGonagall that he was to be excused from todays lessons - as much as Remus wanted to protest, he really was looking forward to double Defence - and the dormitory was mercifully empty when he nudged through the door. He climbed carefully into bed, marvelling at the way this months wounds had nearly healed already, and fell into a sleep dreaming of chocolate pudding at the Great Hall.

 

Remus was awoken a few hours later by his three friends spilling into their dormitory in a mess of limbs.

It suddenly dawned on him that he hadn’t drawn his curtains before crawling into bed, and now the three of them had spotted him and he froze to the spot. Remus was torn somewhere between relief of seeing his friends - the only friends he’d really ever had - and terrified that somehow they would be able to see his secret just by looking at him. James had a way, even after only knowing him for four days, of looking right through someone, Peter had such an open, honest face that you just wanted to tell him everything, and _Sirius_ , oh Sirius, his silvery-grey eyes pierced Remus right through his insides and made him just want to cry. So Remus froze on the bed, and watched the trio disentangle themselves from each other.

Sirius spotted him first, his face splitting into a wide grin as he bounded over to Remus’ bed. “Remus! Where the bloody hell did you disappear to?”

James followed after Sirius and sat at the foot of Remus’ bed. “You look like Merlin’s bollocks, Remus. You alright?”

Remus forced a watery smile and sat up against his pillows, sparing a glance downwards to make sure his pyjama top was buttoned right to the collar. “I’m alright, sorry, my mum wasn’t very well.” He paused to swallow back another bloom of sandpaper in his throat, glad the howls had receded for now. “Had to go home and help out.”

“And you got off lessons?!” Peter was already rummaging in his trunk for something, his voice slightly muffled.

“You could’ve said something, Lupin.” Sirius crossed his arms and levelled Remus with a look of disappointment. Remus wasn’t quite sure how to meet his eyes, he’d never had friends to disappoint before.

“We wondered where you’d gone! Pete was really worried his joke about the mermen didn’t go down very well,” James continued, pushing his glasses onto his nose with the back of his hand. Sirius nodded enthusiastically from his side, still pouting a little.

Peter poked his head up from inside his trunk, looking a little green around the gills. “Honestly, I thought you were dead offended or something, mate.” He sat back on his heels and threw a chocolate frog over to Remus. “Here, you look like you need it.”

Remus managed an actual smile that time and plucked up the chocolate frog, tearing open the foil. He took a bite and nodded solemnly. “I know, sorry. I just kind of… panicked and ran off.”

James smiled that wildly bright and inane grin, ruffled a hand through his hair and casually leant against the bedpost. Remus pretended not to see his shoulder slip from the post before he caught himself and straightened up. “It’s alright. Your mum’s alright though, right?”

Sirius stood up abruptly and crossed to his own bed. Remus’ gaze followed him for a moment before flickering back to James, waiting earnestly for an answer. “Yeah,” he muttered, clearing his throat again. “Yeah, she’s fine.”

“Good, good.” James nodded like he was genuinely pleased, and Remus felt the bile rise in his throat that his mother wasn’t actually ill and really, it was all hideously and entirely his fault and maybe friends wouldn’t be a good idea after all.

But then, he couldn’t quite bring himself to do anything about it. He was so, so lonely, and so desperate for friendship and affection and James was looking at him with a bright earnest grin, Sirius was smiling at him with a softness behind his grey eyes, and Peter threw him another chocolate frog. Remus swallowed back another mouthful of tears and let his eyes drift shut again.

 

Potions wasn’t Remus’ least favourite subject by any means - that went to Astronomy - but he hated every moment of it because the Gryffindor first-years had to share their lessons with their Slytherin counterparts.

Professor Slughorn, the head of Slytherin, had paired them all with someone of the other house in order to ‘build relations’ between the two famously warring factions of Hogwarts. That meant, for this lesson, Remus was paired with a Slytherin girl who seemed far too chatty to be a snake and Peter was with a troll of a boy that made Remus wonder why a grasp of the spoken word wasn’t a prerequisite for attendance at Hogwarts. James was with another boy of similar ilk, and Sirius, to his immense displeasure, was paired with a greasy-looking boy named Severus.

Remus hid a chuckle behind his hand when Sirius’ aristocratic tendencies came out in full force, and he looked every bit the heir of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black when Severus reached over him for a certain ingredient. Sirius leant back in his seat and his lips curled back into the most hilarious expression of distaste. He caught Remus’ eyes and groaned dramatically. Remus nodded back solemnly, as if this were quite possibly the worst thing to besiege them both.

James was hunched over his cauldron, glaring repeatedly between its contents and the ogre he was paired with. Apparently, he was quite atrocious at Potions, despite his father’s proclivities for the subject, and that frustrated him greatly. James was the kind of person desperate to be exceedingly good at everything. Remus shot him a sympathetic smile when he happened to glance up.

Peter seemed intent on both trying to disappear into the space beneath his table, and trying to rescue their potion for fear of Slughorn’s wrath. He wasn’t doing a good job at either and caught Remus’ eye with a wide-eyed stare of _Merlin burning, help me!_

Remus stifled another chuckle, glad he had actually been paired with someone half-decent, despite her being a Slytherin, and the fact her name had gone completely out of his head.

She smiled nicely and leant over the cauldron. “Remus, could you go and get the dandelion roots from the cupboard?”

Remus simply nodded and stepped back from the cauldron, weaving his way through the tables towards the store cupboard at the back of the room. He ducked in there and found Sirius perusing the shelves angrily. Remus wasn’t aware you could peruse angrily, but his friend was living proof, apparently.

Sirius glanced over his shoulder and managed a tight smile to Remus. “Hey Rem.” He glanced at a couple more jars before his shoulders slumped and he let out a great sigh. “Honest, that boy is 90% grease, and 10% nose… and his nose is huge.”

Remus chuckled and stood on his toes to search for the dandelion roots. “Let’s hope grease won’t ruin the potion, hey?” That rewarded him with a bark of laughter from Sirius, his eyes lighting up in a way usually reserved for James, and Remus felt a bloom of pride at the way Sirius clapped him on the shoulder.

Sirius grinned and turned back to the shelves. “I’m trying to find something that will ruin the potion, make it explode or something. Sod it, if I get into trouble, it’ll be worth it.”

Remus glanced back towards the classroom and saw Severus leaning over the cauldron with an extremely sour look over his features. He could just imagine Sirius’ joyful expression if the whole thing was to explode in his face. He bit the inside of his lip and turned back to Sirius, who was also watching his partner with a sneer twisting his lips.

“You want something really volatile,” Remus muttered conspiratorially, turning back to search for his own ingredients to avoid drawing Slughorn’s attention.

“Maybe something that’ll react with the copper solution…” Sirius tapped his finger thoughtfully against his lower lip and Remus remembered his first impression of Sirius as a tiny adult. It was still there, lingering in the way he held himself, the haughty sneer that seemed to creep back into his speech every so often. But here, in the potions cupboard, plotting a prank, Sirius looked 11, and for once, instead of feeling four times his age, with a creak in his knees, Remus felt 11 too.

He watched Sirius with a smile for a moment, before spotting the dandelion roots he needed just over his friend’s shoulder. He crossed the small cupboard and snatched the jar from the shelf before spotting another interesting looking jar just behind it. “Hey, Sirius. What about these? I think they’ll work…” Remus plucked the jar of ergot seeds from the shelf and held them out to his friend.

Sirius’ face bloomed into a grin so bright Remus felt he ought to squint. “Brilliant Rem! With any luck, it’ll ruin his cauldron too!” With that, he bounded out of the cupboard and back into the Potions classroom with a ridiculous grin on his face.

Remus watched him for a moment before hurrying back to his own table. The Slytherin girl gave him a smile that bordered on forced. “Sorry, couldn’t find them for a minute there,” he mumbled, holding the jar out to her.

“It’s alright,” she said brightly, and Remus could hardly stop one eyebrow shooting up whilst he wondered how this girl was so chirpy in a Potions lesson, sharing with someone as strange as him. “I think we’re nearly there, just need to add these roots, then stir…” she leant over the textbook to make sure she was correct, “twelve times anti-clockwise.”

Remus nodded and stepped closer to the cauldron. “I’ll stir, if you like?”

The girl smiled a little wider and stepped to the side. “Okay, I’ll chop these roots…”

Remus shifted, glad to be a little further away from the impending disaster of Sirius’ workstation, and to have a better vantage point. He saw Sirius lean over the cauldron under the pretence of getting a closer look, and barely noticed him slyly drop the seeds into it before straightening up rather quickly. Severus stepped closer again, practically shoving Sirius aside, and as he did, a fountain of purple foam shot from the cauldron, completely covering Sirius, Severus, and everyone in a five foot radius. Sirius grinned through the foam and wiped a gob of it from his eyes, only to double over in laughter once he saw the sullen look on Severus’ face. James started laughing from across the other side of the room, and even Peter squeaked out a laugh before his partner glared at him. Remus chuckled behind his hand.

“Good grief, boys! What happened here? Where did we go so wrong, Mr. Snape, Mr. Black?” Professor Slughorn boomed as he crossed over the classroom towards the disaster zone.

Sirius was laughing too much to explain, and Snape looked as if he might implode from frustration and rage. The purple foam was dripping from them both, and looked to be steadily emitting a greenish smoke, but it didn’t seem to be bothering Sirius. He had to hold on to the side of his workstation to stop himself from bending double with laughter, and soon, all of the Gryffindors in the room were laughing too.

When Slughorn left the classroom to escort Sirius, Snape and the other unfortunate bystanders to the Hospital Wing to get cleaned up, James and Peter met Remus at the sinks towards the back of the room.

“Merlin, that was brilliant!” James grinned as he washed his hands. Remus could tell he was trying to whisper, but it was apparently impossible for James to speak quietly, or at anything less than super-speed. “I thought Snape was going to faint from sheer rage for a moment there, or Sirius was going to laugh himself unconscious! Do you think he did it on purpose? Did you see what he put in there? Honestly, thought I might wet myself laughing for a minute, Slughorn didn’t seem happy at all!”

Peter and Remus shared a soft grin of _there he goes again_ , before Remus cleared his throat and stepped forward to wash his own hands. “Yeah, he threw some ergot seeds in there. Helped him figure out what would work best when we were both in the cupboard.”

“Amazing!” James’ voice came out at his usual near-shouting volume, before he blushed softly and stepped closer to Remus and Peter with a wry grin on his face, hazel eyes glinting behind his glasses. “I have a feeling the next seven years are going to be glorious.”


	4. Pinball Wizard - The Who - 1st Year

Charms was Sirius’ favourite class. It was the type of magic that came easiest to him, the kind with fancy wand work and flamboyancy and everything about him was fluttering and wonderful and _charming._ Flying came a close second, and that was only because he got to see one James Fleamont Potter in his natural habitat, careening through the skies, singing the praises of the Comet 40 he had at home whilst still winning races by an arms length or more. It made Sirius’ cold and confused heart soar to see happiness etched so clearly in someone else’s expression, as if such a thing might actually be attainable to him.

So Flying Class had a special place in his heart. Watching James fly circles around the rest of the first-years, Sirius keeping on his tail as best he could, his pride already dented but he knew he and James were equals in other ways. Watching Peter make the quiet Hufflepuff girl with eyes wide as dinner plates feel better, explaining he used to be awful at flying too but all it needed was perseverance and a little courage, who would’ve thought quiet little Pete was a wonderfully calming influence? Watching Remus, mouth pressed in a hard line, determined to try and wrangle the broom beneath him like a wild horse, bucking to try and throw him off - despite the other three’s efforts to teach him the best broom etiquette it always seemed to fail. He had a strange fluid grace every so often - occasionally Sirius would catch him loping like a predator through the halls - but other times he looked like he was about to fall over his own feet, and flying was always one of those times.

Sirius touched down at the end of Flying Class, the ground feeling some way between relief and disappointment, and breathed a contented sigh. James was still flying a last lap to try and impress a few girls clustered to the edge of the grounds. Sirius laughed at his efforts - they seemed to be drawing little attention - and threw his hair back from his shoulder. It was a glorious day, the kind that made Sirius endlessly grateful for Hogwarts, the utter antithesis of dreary grey and black Grimmauld Place. They had managed to go through the winter flying lessons, the chilling wind whipping their faces, and now it was early spring, almost warming, the hints of sunlight in the Scottish wilderness.

He wasn’t sure if he’d ever felt more alive, at Hogwarts with his three best friends, thick as thieves after only a few months. But running from Filch after charming a hundred spectral dogs to chase his cat, or covering the main staircase in lard to make it too slippy to traverse, or charming a fleet of paper airplanes to follow Professor Binns for almost a day before he realised, made them stick together. Hiding out in broom closets until the footsteps died down seemed to cement their friendship, grabbing hands or wrists to sprint away, tumbling into the Gryffindor common room through thundering breaths and wide grins of _Merlin boys, we got away with it_.

Remus looked a little green when they reconvened to head up to the Great Hall for lunch. “I hate flying,” he muttered, pushing his lengthening coppery curls away from his face.

“You _hate_ it? Oh Rem, how is that even possible?” Sirius rolled his eyes as soon as James started speaking, that grandiose note in his voice - it was a touchy subject after all. “Flying is like… like the greatest gift, it’s like nothing else, it’s the best thing in the world. The wind in your hair, the sun on your face, the air around you, flying alongside the birds, looking down at everything like tiny ants, the _freedom_ of it, the skills, the fun-” James seemed to catch himself and cleared his throat- “Really, do you not like it at all?”

Sirius laughed and clapped James on the shoulder. “Leave it off, Jamie. Not everyone is born with a broomstick up their arse like you are.”

James sputtered. “You’re the one with the broomstick up your arse, mate!”

“Now, now,” Remus said with a sly smile. “It’s clearly both of you, and probably the same bloody broomstick knowing you two.”

Sirius roared with laughter and clapped Remus on the shoulder as James cuffed him around the other arm and Peter muttered something about staying away from James’ bloody broomstick if that was the case.

The four of them tripped into the Great Hall, going over to the Gryffindor table and sitting in their usual seats. Everything had a rhythm nowadays, a routine that Sirius clung to. Grimmauld Place had no routine, everything came from Orion and Walburga, everything bowed down to their decisions, and when they said jump, Sirius didn’t even dare ask how high.

But in Hogwarts, routine was like a heavy comfort blanket over his shoulders. The four of them sat at the same table, called a greeting to the same people each time they came to sit down, and always, always descended into laughter. Sirius hadn’t ever heard so much laughter, nor had he laughed as much before in his whole life. Every so often though, between the laughter, he would wonder how Regulus was getting on at home, if he was staying out of trouble like Sirius had pleaded before he left - although Reg smiled at that and said _Siri, it’s you who’s the trouble, you know_ . He was almost ashamed to admit it was hard to think of Regulus when he was so preoccupied with the glorious freedom of Hogwarts and the safety of his three best friends - he would stop occasionally and feel the sharp bile of guilt in his throat when he remembered his _real_ brother at home. But Regulus always got on better, he lived up to their parents expectations, wasn’t subjected to the put-downs, the _Diffindo’s_ , the sharp rap of Walburga’s signet ring, so perhaps he was doing fine after all.

Bellies full, the four boys started the climb back up towards Gryffindor tower. Sirius lagged behind a little with James, to discuss an all important plan. “It’s Rem’s birthday next week.”

Sirius was keen to give the other boys as good a birthday as they had given him, seeing as he hadn’t really ever had birthday celebrations before. Occasionally, when he couldn’t sleep at night, he would still think about waking up on November 3rd 1971 to the cheers of his three best friends and a mountain of sweets and it would soothe the ache in his chest. And besides, Remus had the sweetest tooth out of all of them, they needed to get their hands on all the chocolate in Hogsmeade.

“Affirmative.” James had found some detective magazines in a pile in the common room and had started speaking like a Muggle named James Boone or something - he said their sharing of first names was a sign! “I was going to ask Gideon to get some things from Honeydukes for us, seeing as we can’t try to sneak down to Hogsmeade again or McGonagall will have our guts.”

“Agreed.” Sirius shucked a hand through his hair and glanced up to see Remus and Peter talking avidly. His heart warmed whenever he looked at any of them. He looked back to James with a grin. “But we need a prank too, don’t we? I think we should do something to the Slytherins.”

“Ahh yes, but if we do, then what will we do for my birthday?” James grinned inanely.

“I’m sure we’ll think of something, Jamie.” Sirius chuckled, elbowing him in the ribs.

“Good man. I’ll talk to Gideon and Fabian.”

Sirius grinned and slung his arm around James’ shoulders. The first time James had done that to him, he’d frozen, unsure what to do about it, but now it almost felt strange _not_ to be touching one of his friends in some way. James scrubbed a hand through Sirius’ hair, earning a roar from the shorter boy, who attempted to get him in a headlock, all whilst still climbing the stairs.

They only broke apart at the sound of Peter’s voice, squeakier than usual. “Um… James, Sirius?”

Sirius broke away from his best mate to see Cissy in the corridor before them, looking down her long, straight Black nose at the four of them, Remus and Peter stood uncertainly where Cissy’s boyfriend, Carrow and a few others were blocking their path. Sirius immediately pushed his shoulders back and straightened up. “What do you want, Cissy?”

He watched James move next to Remus and Peter, and he knew James’ wand was in his sleeve. But Cissy and her friends were sixth-years, and if Cissy was anything like her sister, she would know some nasty curses. She smiled unpleasantly and called over her shoulder without taking her eyes off of Sirius. “Severus? Are these the boys you talked about?”

Cissy’s boyfriend stepped aside and there was Severus Snape, the boy who sneered at all of them whenever he got a chance, the boy he’d been paired with in Potions, the one who looked down his abnormally long nose and had muttered something about getting his own back all the way to the Hospital Wing. Sirius pressed his lips together as Snape nodded.

“Oi, Snivellus!” James called, already puffing his chest out and running a hand through his hair, and Sirius was immediately bolstered in the face of a family member by the unflappable grin of James Potter. “Didn’t know you needed childminders!”

Severus glared at James and Sirius felt a roar of protectiveness, he was quicker than Snape, he was sure, if Snape tried to hex him Sirius would be there in an instant. Of course then, all hell would break loose and Cissy’s friends probably knew some really nasty curses. Thankfully, Severus didn’t lunge for James. “Shut up, Potter,” he spat.

Sirius drew himself up for a volley of insults but he was surprised when Remus spoke up, chuckling softly. “You’ve clearly not been informed, Snivellus. It’s impossible to shut James up.”

James grinned and preened, but it was Cissy’s boyfriend who chuckled darkly. “Oh, I’m sure I know a spell for that.”

Then that was it, spells fired off left, right and centre. Sirius called up all the memories of the spells Bella taught him the previous summer, grinning at the fact they were being used against her own sister. But they were vastly outnumbered and didn’t know half the spells the sixth-years did. Time took on a strange quality, unimportant as Sirius dove for cover behind a statue and grinned at Remus from across the corridor, a barrage of spells between them. James, of course, had no cover and was just firing off spells he was probably making up off the top of his head. Sirius would’ve been right there with him, except he wouldn’t have put it past Cissy to send a seriously nasty hex his way and get a pat on the back from his mother from putting the unruly heir out of commission. But then, Sirius swallowed back the fear and leapt out next to James. If he were stood next to his best friend, nothing could happen. It could’ve been anywhere from a few seconds to _hours_ before Sirius heard Professor McGonagall's’ shrill but stern voice.

“Enough!”

Sirius looked around to see James trying to stem a bloody nose with his sleeve, a welt of ugly boils across his face, Remus was holding one arm close to his chest, and it appeared to entirely lack bones, and Peter’s shoes had been turned to stone and melded into the floor. But all four of them were hiding grins, the adrenaline of a fight as the underdog coursing through their veins. Sirius loved these three boys like he loved nothing else in life, fiercely and completely unapologetic. He would walk through fire for the three of them.

 

In the end, although they lost House points and gained a weeks detention each, Sirius had to thank Snivellus and Cissy, because now they had a target for their next set of pranks. First, they had Remus’ birthday to think of first though, then, Sirius decided, their revenge against the snakes would be conducted as part of James’ birthday celebrations.

The first obstacle in a world-class birthday for Remus was the fact they were due to have Astronomy that night - Remus’ least favourite subject for some reason. Thankfully, Sirius, James and Peter had hatched a plan. During lunchtime, when the sun was high and the Astronomy Tower was all but useless, they would sneak up there and put all of the telescopes out of commission. They had tried several times already in the run up to his birthday, to do a test run and make sure the coast was clear, but they had been stopped in their tracks each time. Disgruntled after the most recent attempt, the day before Remus’ birthday, the trio went back to the common room to find Remus talking to Robert and Gideon around the record player, _Hunky Dory_ on the turntable. Sirius grinned and plopped himself down into the seat next to Remus. “Alright, Nearly-Birthday Boy, how are we?”

Remus rolled his eyes, apparently not enjoying the attention. “I’m fine, where have you three been?”

Sirius shot James a triumphant grin, already feeling reinvigorated. They would figure out a way to get up to the Astronomy Tower, their friend _would not_ be subjected to his least favourite lesson on his birthday! “Been planning something for your birthday celebrations, Rem.”

Remus grinned and Sirius saw the flush creep up from beneath the collar of his shirt. He immediately wanted to spill their whole plan, but he knew better than that, it would be best as a surprise. Remus watched as Gideon flipped over the record. “I don’t want a big fuss, you lot, really. And I know you’re going to sing Happy Birthday at every opportunity like we did to you, Sirius, but really.”

“Well tough,” James boomed, “it’s your birthday, Rem. You only turn 12 once, and it’ll be a grand day, we will sing you Happy Birthday at every bloody opportunity, Merlin help me, you’ll drown in chocolate, you’ll feel like the King of Gryffindor or my name isn’t James Fleamont Po-”

“Alright, James,” Gideon clapped James on the shoulder good-naturedly. “We get the point - it’s Remus’ birthday tomorrow.”

James went red across the bridge of his nose and Sirius couldn’t help but laugh at the sheepish look that flickered across his face. They all made fun of how James could get carried away, but Sirius loved it really, and wouldn’t want to change it for the world.

That night, Sirius crept into James’ bed to discuss upcoming plans. Whenever possible, Sirius hated falling asleep by himself, he wondered if it might come from Regulus crawling into bed with him when neither of them could sleep for Orion's’ voice shaking the house.  So he either fell asleep with James, talking about the past, future and everything in between, or with Remus, curled at the end of his bed listening to his even, mellifluous tones reading some Muggle book he still couldn’t remember the name of.

“How are we going to get into the Astronomy Tower?” Sirius mused, rubbing at the black ink on his nails. He’d tried to paint them like Marc Bolan and David Bowie did, but he didn’t have the Muggle nail polish he’d seen some of the girls use in the common room and ink didn’t work as well.

James peered at him over his thick-rimmed glasses and grinned. “Okay… I was going to save this for an important date, but I think our Rem’s birthday is important.” He held up a finger as Sirius opened his mouth to question and reached under his bed to retrieve something. James held the fabric out and it only took a moment for Sirius to recognise the item, he’d read enough about rare things in the Black family library.

“Merlin’s balls, Jamie… that’s a fucking Invisibility Cloak isn’t it!?”

James grinned even wider and hooked the cloak around his shoulders. Sirius swallowed down a whoop of delight when he disappeared from the neck down. “It is, mate. Was my Dads, found it in his study over Christmas, he doesn’t know I have it, but I figured it would come in supremely useful for our extraordinary pranking abilities.”

Sirius snagged one edge of the cloak and ducked under it, eyes wide and mouth agape. “This is incredible… think of all the tricks we can do with this! I bet we could even sneak into the other common rooms, couldn’t we?!”

“Perhaps we could,” James said as he rearranged the cloak over them both, and Sirius realised if either Remus or Peter looked over to James’ bed right now - because James never shut his bloody drapes - then they would be utterly invisible. It make his heart race with possibility. “But our first port of call is the Astronomy Tower. Perhaps we should do it after dinner, so they don’t have a chance to fix it for our nighttime lesson.”

“I like the sound of that Jamie.” Sirius caught James around the neck and tried to squeeze all of his affection for the boy into him via mildly violent physically contact.

 

Sirius woke up with a start, his head half on James’ pillow, and nearly screamed in fright when James’ head was missing entirely, before he realised they must’ve fallen asleep half in the Invisibility Cloak. He took a calming breath and leant back against the pillows, and looked to the window to see the dawn just approaching. He shoved the Invisibility Cloak away from James’ face, shook him awake and pressed his hand over his mouth to avoid his shouts waking Remus. Sometimes, Remus slept like the dead, and other days he felt like he could breathe too loudly and Remus would stir, so it was always advisable to be quiet.

Once James was awake, glasses retrieved from somewhere in the covers and shoved onto his nose, Sirius crept out of James’ bed and over to Remus’ to silently draw back the drapes whilst James woke Peter. Remus was apparently sleeping like the dead that morning, face pressed into his pillow, limbs sprawled out, but not quite to the end of the bed, as if he were so used to Sirius curling up there to listen to him read. Grey eyes flickered over his sleeping form, his pyjama sleeves rucked up slightly to expose his arms, the host of white scars along his hands that none of them could ever get the guts to bring up. His pyjama shirt had rucked up around his waist too, exposing a sliver of skin and what looked like the silvered pink of a scar around his ribs. Sirius bit his lip - he knew what it was like to have scars, to have to hide them - and gingerly pulled the covers up over his exposed skin before James and Peter came over.

James retrieved the cake Mrs. Potter had sent in two days before, and Peter fished in his trunk for the bumper pack of Honeydukes they had convinced Gideon Prewett to retrieve from Hogsmeade for them. Sirius had also squirrelled away a package from Mrs. Lupin that felt like it contained socks or something else that was knitted a few days ago, and retrieved that from under his bed.

Once they were gathered around Remus’ bed, James held out his wand like a conductor's baton and counted them in before they all shouted - at the top of their lungs, early mornings and silencing charms be damned - “Happy Birthday Remus!”

Remus jerked awake and James swung his wand to conduct them into three rounds of Happy Birthday at increasing volume, until Frank Longbottom came to the door bleary-eyed.

“Boys!” He leant against the doorframe, looking half-asleep still. James continued to conduct them until the end of the verse. “Happy Birthday Remus, but Merlin’s beard, it’s 6:30 and I think the _Slytherins_ can hear you.”

By that point, Remus had sat up against his pillows, still half-asleep but grinning ear to ear and looking up at the trio with unbridled admiration. Remus gave Frank a sheepish look from behind his drapes, and James grinned. “Sorry, Frank, you know how birthdays are!”

Frank rolled his eyes, rubbed the heel of his palm over his eyes and shut the door to their dorm. Sirius heard his grumbling all the way up the stairs, but it didn’t matter, and he turned back to Remus to see him grinning.

“I knew this was coming, but I’m still surprised,” Remus groused, drawing his legs up to make room for the other three when they climbed onto his bed.

“Happy Birthday, Rem!” Sirius sang, holding out the package from Mrs. Lupin.

“Happy Birthday Rem,” James echoed, indicating to the tower of Honeydukes Peter spilled onto the bed.

“Happy Birthday Rem,” Peter echoed again, taking the top bar and holding it out to him.

“Thank you, all three of you, thank you so much.”

Sirius beamed with pride and thought for the millionth time that he could face down the world with these three boys beside him. The smile stayed all day, all through the riotous Happy Birthday song that James led at breakfast, then again at lunchtime, then again at dinnertime, this time with Dumbledore standing to lead the conducting, all the Houses except Slytherin joining without really knowing who they were singing for.

Then, just after dinner, James sent Remus up to their dorm room to give them a minute, under the pretence of gathering their supplies for Astronomy that night. Sirius continued to grin as James produced the Invisibility Cloak from his bag and he, Sirius and Peter made their way up to the Astronomy Tower, slipping past Sinistra on her way down to her office.

Once in the Tower, James threw off the Cloak - it was stiflingly warm under that thing, they had discovered - and the trio set about a charm. It was one he and Sirius had thought about modifying, something crossed with a minor blasting charm and a Flipendo. Sirius, who was the best at Charms, cast the spell on every telescope, and after a while, they coerced Peter to try it out, whooping in success when he, after leaning down to look into the eyepiece, was met with a faceful of smoke and was thrown halfway across the room. James helped him up as Sirius re-charmed the telescope  - all three giggling madly - and they slipped back under the Invisibility Cloak and back along to the Gryffindor common room.

When Remus met them in front of the fire, a glum set to his mouth, ready to go and spend his birthday evening in Astronomy, Sirius just kept gleefully quiet and trailed after him. Right up until they paused at the stairs of the Astronomy Tower, and Sinistra waved the assembled group away, looking flustered - “Class is cancelled tonight, the telescopes are malfunctioning!” - Sirius kept gleefully quiet.

Until Remus turned to look at him with something akin to a smirk. “Astronomy _is_ my least favourite subject.”

“Indeed,” Sirius shot back, crossing his arms over his chest and already starting back down the corridor towards Gryffindor tower.

“And it _is_ my birthday.”

“So it is,” Peter agreed, producing a bag of Every Flavour Beans from his pocket and offering them around the group.

“And you three wouldn’t have anything to do with it, would you?”

“Absolutely not!” James looked put out, sputtering and puffing his chest up, but he grinned as Peter announced the password to the Fat Lady and they spilled up the stairs towards their dorm room.

Remus grinned and Sirius was surprised he wasn’t more upset about not being actually included in the prank. But it was his birthday, and birthday surprises were imperative. Once in the dorm room, James waved his wand and Sirius watched in awe as the duvets and pillows all collected in the middle of the room.

Sirius gave James an incredulous look even as he trampled into the pile of cushions and laid down. James simply shrugged. “My mum uses a lot of household charms… figured this one would be useful. Our first camp-out, we stay up all night, eating chocolate and planning mischief, in honour of Remus’ birthday.”

Remus clambered in next to Sirius and settled on a duvet, reaching up onto his bed to pull down the box of Honeydukes. “This is an amazing birthday present, thank you lads.”

Sirius grinned, leant over to steal a square of chocolate, and rested his head against Remus’ upper arm. “That’s what friends do. Happy Birthday Rem.”

 

The rest of the term seemed to fly by. James’ birthday was an all-out free-for-all. Remus, Peter and Sirius had decided that a night of pranks would be the best thing for James, but not before they convinced Moaning Myrtle to help them overflow the dungeon bathrooms and cause Potions to be cancelled for three days whilst Filch and Slughorn figured out how to stop the torrent of swampy water. Potions was James’ least favourite subject after all. And, it had the added benefit of annoying the Slytherins, which was always a plus in Sirius’ book.

As well as the dungeon-flooding, the four snuck into the Slytherin dorms - lingering outside in the Invisibility Cloak until they overheard the password - and bewitched all the shampoo in the showers with a Hair-Growing charm the night before James’ birthday. James hadn’t shut up the whole day, shrieking with laughter whenever he thought about Snivellus with a four-foot beard, Narcissa and her boyfriend all tangled up in straw-blonde hair, Mulciber trying to look stern and intimidating through eyebrows like thickets.

Summer at Hogwarts was beautiful, too.

They laid out by the Great Lake, sharing endless supplies of sweets, skimming stones and trying to perfect the on-the-sly Stinging Hex on passing Slytherins and sniggering when they looked around wildly for the caster.

Sirius had tried to ignore the rising tide of bile in his throat at the prospect of being sent back to Grimmauld Place after all the wonderful freedom and acceptance and _love_ of Hogwarts, but by mid-June he was fit to burst. He had perfected the Stinging Hex and cast it almost indiscriminately at passing students and spent every night of the last two weeks at Hogwarts in detention with Professor McGonagall, her piercing gaze just making everything else much worse.

He was glum on the trip down to Hogsmeade to get on the train, belongings shoved haphazardly into his trunk with Peter and Remus’ last minute help - James was too busy reminiscing and waxing lyrical over their first year at Hogwarts, how they would reunite the next year under these same crimson drapes and plot their mastery of the world. Sirius would’ve found it funny any other time to see James stood on his bed, arms thrown wide and speaking as if to a crowd.

But now, on the train, the prospect of gloomy London and gloomy, grey, _Black_ , Grimmauld Place looming, Sirius wanted to scream and cry. He could tell the other boys didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to act around him, didn’t know how to answer his tart remarks or all-out insults because that was easier than admitting he was hurting, wasn’t it?

At Platform 9 3/4, James clamped Sirius into a rib-crushing hug, despite his protestations and attempts to push the other boy off him. When he pulled back Sirius saw the same earnest face peering at him from behind thick glasses that he saw on the train, alone in the corridor, welcoming him into the compartment, that he saw on the first night saying _it’s alright, mate._ The same face that he saw on the second night when he crawled into James’ bed too ashamed to admit he couldn’t sleep and James had peered at him and just nodded like he understood.

Bolstered by Sirius’ acceptance of James’ hug, Peter came next, embracing him awkwardly and insisting he would get Mrs. Pettigrew to send them all scones over the summer to last their burgeoning sweet tooth's. Sirius managed a grin and ruffled Peter’s hair as he bent down to shoulder his rucksack. Remus smiled softly as he hugged James and Peter goodbye, the pair already heading off to Mr Pettigrew, who was picking them both up to take them back to Devon.

Alone with Remus, Sirius scuffed his feet against the ground and pouted sullenly. He didn’t want to go back to Grimmauld Place. He hadn’t been in pain for so long, hadn’t had nightmares for the past few months curled up in crimson sheets. He didn’t want to remember what Walburga’s ring across his cheekbone felt like, what Orion pulling him apart at the seams with well-placed barbs felt like. And it would be so much worse now that he was in Gryffindor.

He remembered Remus’ scars then, the ones across his hands, the one bared by his pyjamas in the early morning that Sirius had kept secret, had swallowed back into the hollow of his chest where he kept his own secrets. He smiled at Remus, a genuine smile that felt as if it warmed his grey eyes for the first time in _weeks_ , and Remus rewarded him with a rare full smile back, the blush creeping up his neck.

“I uh-” Remus glanced through the crowd for a second before looking back to Sirius. “I know what it’s like to not want to go home.”

Sirius nodded, choking back on the well of emotion in his throat, and stepped forward to hug Remus tightly. “It’ll be alright… for the both of us.” He squeezed Remus’ shoulders and sank into the warmth of the hug. It was different from James’ hugs, all bone-crushing and overwhelming and so utterly _James_ . This hug was a different kind of overwhelming, warm and soft and welcoming and oddly like _home_. Perhaps it was the scent of Remus, curled up reading that Muggle book, or the knowledge that they both had some measure of secrets.

When Sirius finally stepped back, pushing back the urge to just refuse to let go, Remus smiled wider, his cheeks a soft pink, and waved goodbye before heading off into the crowd.

Sirius turned and went through the thinning groups of people, pulling his trunk behind him until he saw Walburga stood by a column, her lips curled in a sneer she didn’t even try to hide. Sirius straightened up and felt cold fear run through him. Walburga flicked her wand - Sirius tried to hide the flinch, he really did, but it was ingrained in his body to flinch when Walburga produced her wand - and his trunk hovered over towards her.

“Stand up straight, hands out of your pockets for Salazar’s sake, boy,” Walburga spat. “And you can take that disgusting scarf off before we get home, before you father sees it.” She waved her wand again and Sirius’ Gryffindor scarf unspooled from his neck - he tried to pretend he imagined it tightening slightly before it did so - and disappeared in a poof of ash.

Sirius swallowed and tried to step back into his role of pure-blood Black family heir, just for protection, just to try and pretend. But it was almost impossible with the feel of James’ hand still on his shoulder, the sugar of cauldron cakes from Peter on his tongue, the smell of Remus’ books on his hands.

Sirius closed his eyes and wished the next two months away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I know this is a super slow burn, but I love the friendships between these guys, and there is some important stuff being set up here for later, I promise! ☺️ As always, your comments and kudos make my day/week/month/year!


	5. With a Little Help from My Friends - The Beatles - 2nd Year

Remus still felt the same pang of disbelief from the previous year when he stepped on the Hogwarts Express on the 1st of September 1972. He met his three best friends in the same compartment as the year before, greeted them all with a hug - ignoring the rush of _home_ that his body screamed when he smelt Sirius’ rosemary shampoo, the sweetness of Sugar Quills in Peter’s bag, the broomstick polish he was sure James must _bathe_ in - and flopped into his seat by the window.

Everything had changed but was somehow still the same. It was reassuring to Remus, who sometimes still woke up and had to remind himself he was indeed at Hogwarts, and had three of the best friends in the world. They were all a year older, burgeoning from childhood into adolescence, toeing that invisible line now they were about to turn thir _teen_.

James was gangly now, with hair that looked like he had shoved his finger in a plug socket, no matter how much Sleakeazy he poured onto it, or how many hairbrushes he broke trying to tame it. Peter had grown taller too, although not as much as James, and his voice was starting to break even more so than when they’d said goodbye for the summer. Sirius had started to attract attention for something other than pranks when they gathered on the platform, his features were slowly shifting into something quite attractive and - despite the fact Remus absolutely did not think that about his friends - sometimes pretty.

Puberty had not left Remus alone either. He had grown taller too - his trousers were inching up towards his ankles no matter how much of the hem his mother had let down over the summer. He was still lean, thanks to the ever-present and ravenous metabolism of the wolf, but some of his puppy fat - he hated that term - had started to morph into muscle. The wolf had been subjected to puberty too, and now the full moons were much harder to bear. The scars had increased, and now the wolf was starting to bite at his arms and legs in retaliation for being cooped up in the cellar of the Lupin house.

Remus noted the four of them had attracted a bit of attention at Platform 9 and 3/4. They had conducted several pranks in the last few weeks of First Year, and now they were starting to make a name for themselves.

“So, any good prank ideas whilst we were cruelly separated, lads?” James started with a clap of his hands, barely minutes into the train ride. “Any genius thoughts in those wonderful brains of yours? Any spell ideas, anything from the Zonko’s catalogue, anything we can use to cement our names in the annals-” Peter sniggered at that- “of Hogwarts history as the best pranksters ever to grace those halls!?”

Remus smiled, brimming with happiness at James’ wordiness, for once eager to share his news. They had been forced to stop sending letters halfway through the summer after a hurried note from Sirius to explain that Walburga was reading all of their correspondence and radio silence would be better from here on out. James, Remus and Peter had decided that if one of them couldn’t communicate, then the others would suffer the same fate.

“Not quite,” Remus piped up from where he had folded himself into the seat by the window. “But I read a great book, _Erling the Bold_ , by R.M. Ballantyne.” He smiled proudly. “And I think I found us our name.”

“Our name?” Peter piped up, already distributing flapjacks from Mrs. Pettigrew, wrapped in a napkin from his bag.

“Yup,” Remus agreed, nibbling a piece of melted chocolate from the top of his flapjack. “ _The Marauders_.”

James stopped mid-chew and a piece of oatmeal fell from his mouth. Sirius, who seemed quiet after returning from time with his family - just like he had the first day back after Christmas - looked up towards Remus with a soft smile.

“Marauders?” James echoed, swallowing his mouthful of flapjack. “Wassat mean?”

“Like pirates,” Remus tugged at his collar to loosen it a little, his cheeks turning red under the attention of his friends. “You know,” he cleared his throat, “ _the marauders leapt over the bow of the ship to loot the goods.”_

Sirius nodded and kicked his feet up onto the opposite seat, just next to Remus’ thigh where a new scar lay, still red and raw. “I like that.” His voice was decisive and firm. It was agreed then. “We’re marauders.”

“Marauders!” James echoed in a grand booming voice before he nudged his glasses further back onto his nose.

“Marauders!” Peter agreed. He threw his arm up to cheer and inadvertantly sprayed all four of them with crumbs from the flapjack napkin.

“Pete!” The other three chorused.

 

Sirius and Remus still had their nighttime reading sessions, when Sirius couldn’t sleep and nudged open his curtains with a sheepish look over his features. It wasn’t that simple for Remus though. He had discovered his emotions tended to ebb and flow with the moon. For the week or so before the full moon, Remus felt on edge and full of far too much energy. He felt like he could run laps around Hogwarts and play Quidditch without a broom - despite being the worst flier in the year and having _no_ clue about Quidditch. But the few days after the moon, all Remus wanted to do was sleep. He had no idea whether Sirius still came to his bed, to see if he were reading, on those few days after the moon, but he was far too out of it to be aware if he did.

The week before each moon, however, Sirius climbed into Remus’ bed almost every night, discussing the book they were reading and settling in to listen to Remus. They had moved on to _Lord of the Rings_ after _The Hobbit_ , and Remus reckoned that would take them all through second year, if not partially in to third year.

Sirius barely waited for lights out before he appeared at Remus’ drapes, the second night of second-year. He was probably in James’ bed on the first night, whispering furtively and catching up with his best friend. Remus didn’t mind, he understood. But Sirius came to him the second night, peeking through the curtains, his pale face shining, circles under his eyes dark. Remus was wide awake, the brief lull of the new moon meant he felt almost _normal_ and he wanted to capitalise on it.

“Could barely sleep back at Grimmauld,” Sirius muttered, climbing in to Remus’ bed and casting a quick silencing charm to stop the other two from being disturbed.

Remus chuckled and shifted over in the bed, lifting the covers up to allow his friend under. “Yeah?”

Sirius flashed him a grin. “Missed your dulcet tones, Rem,” he murmured. “That, and worrying about what our mate Frido is up to.”

“Frodo,” Remus chided with a soft grin, but he never really meant it. Sirius’ utter lack of knowledge about anything Muggle was quite endearing. “ _Merlin,_ ” he hissed as Sirius slid his cold feet along the length of one of Remus’ calves. “Get off, Sirius! It’s bloody freezing out there.”

Sirius grinned and nuzzled down in the covers, pulling them up to his chin. Remus rolled his eyes and rolled onto his front, propping himself up onto his elbows and resting the book between his forearms. Remus cleared his throat and tested a sore spot on his bottom lip with his tongue.

“You remember where we were?”

“Frido and the gang-” Remus didn’t bother correcting him that time- “are trying to get through the Mines, aren’t they?”

Remus grinned and nodded. “Yep. We left it on a cliffhanger, didn’t we?”

Sirius just nodded and closed his eyes as Remus started to read. The first time he had read to Sirius, he had been so incredibly embarrassed. For one, he didn’t realise he was actually reading _out loud_ \- a byproduct of his lonely upbringing, he’d probably been reading out loud to himself for years. But now, he was used to the soft lilt, the Welsh tinge of his voice, low in the darkness, just for him and Sirius. Sirius shifted and pressed his head against Remus’ forearm, smiling happily. Remus just smiled back, a wave of affection washing over him. How had he got so lucky? These three friends so unerringly loyal to him, despite the fact he couldn’t give all of himself back.

Remus tried desperately to just take the moment when he could, not worrying about when it would all come crashing down around him like it inevitably would. He paused at the end of the chapter, his own eyes drooping, dog-eared the corner of the book and slid it away. He didn’t shift away from Sirius, just laid his head on the pillow next to him and drifted off.

 

On the afternoon of the 18th of January, Remus felt on edge, to say the least. It had been growing for the past week or so, building and brewing inside of him. The moon hung over him, taunting, every night when sleep evaded him, and that night it would all come to a head. His skin felt too small, too tight and too warm all at once, despite the frigid weather outside. A growl had been bubbling in the back of his throat all day and he had to concentrate to keep it from spilling out several times, especially in double Herbology when all James and Sirius wanted to do was start a mud fight. The wolf felt too close to the surface, too quick to leap up and try and assume control even though the moon wouldn’t be above the horizon for hours yet.

It had only gotten worse the older he got, he had to fight the wolf more and more, tamp it down under his ribcage, bare his own teeth to try and frighten it into submission. Remus was terrified that one day he would not be able to control it, and somehow, despite the moon being absent from the sky, the wolf would spill over and wreak havoc.

The common room was too much. Too full of people, too loud, too smelly. Remus could smell every single drop of blood in the room, hear every persons’ heartbeat. He could hear the sixth year couple in the corner who were whispering to each other, both their hearts pounding. He could tell that Peter wasn’t really asleep, just feigning it to avoid being drawn into James and Sirius’ heated discussion about Gobstones. He could smell the smear of gravy James had spilled down his robes the previous night at dinner. He could smell the pumpkin pasty Sirius had stashed in his pocket from lunch, a habit that hadn’t slipped past Remus, but he didn’t quite know why his pure-blood rich friend would hoard food.

Remus tried one more time to concentrate on his book. It was _Frankenstein_ again, a usual full moon choice, something he knew inside and out and yet still spoke to the wolf clinging to his veins. But it couldn’t hold his attention. Not this close to the moon, not with the headiness of the common room all around him. Remus sighed, closed his book and shoved it into his bag.

“I-I’m not feeling well, guys. I’m going to see if Pomfrey can do anything.” He didn’t have to act to rub a hand over his face as he stood, his eyes felt bloodshot, too tired, too wired to deal with it all.

Remus didn’t miss the look between Sirius and James.

“Alright, mate,” James muttered, leaning back in his chair and running a hand through his hair.

“I’ll walk you down to the Hospital Wing, Rem.” Sirius sprang from his armchair and straightened his shirt.

“It’s fine, Sirius. It’s my head that hurts, not my legs.” Remus started towards the portrait-hole but Sirius wouldn’t take no for an answer, and shoved on his shoes as he followed him out into the corridor.

“I don’t mind. I need a break anyway, I mean, I have to meet Sinistra for detention in a half-hour anyway. I wouldn’t stop laughing in Astronomy the other day. Not my fault they were talking about how my cousin was obscured by meteors that night. I wish she were obscured by meteors, especially if they landed right on her head. Cissy or Bella of course, Andy’s alright.”

Remus pinched the bridge of his nose and started down the stairs towards the Hospital Wing. “That’s nice Sirius.” His voice was tense, careful of every syllable lest it morph into a growl.

Sirius stopped whilst they were waiting for a set of stairs to swing back around towards them. The two watched Peeves swoop past a group of girls and Sirius snickered at the resulting screams that echoed through the staircase. Remus didn’t feel like laughing, and just shrugged his bag further onto his shoulder.

Sirius caught the movement and glanced across at him. “What’s up, Rem? You’ve been in a mood all day.”

Remus closed his eyes and wondered why the universe didn’t consider his lycanthropy punishment enough, and that he had to deal with inane questions when the moon felt like it was about to pull the tides right out of his body. He clenched and unclenched his hand in his pocket and stepped onto the newly available staircase. “I’m fine, Sirius. Thank you.”

Sirius peered at him as he tumbled down the steps with the boundless energy he always seemed to exude, and Remus could just _see_ him falling head over heels down into the Great Hall. Remus might’ve laughed then. Or at least, the wolf would’ve rumbled some approximation of laughter in his throat. His fists clenched and unclenched. Remus heard his own knuckles cracking and grating.

“You look like death warmed up, Rem. Are you sure?”

“Sirius.” Remus didn’t stop his loping strides down the stairs, but just glanced at his friend as they walked. “I have a headache, a bad headache. I’m wondering whether I’m going to vomit on you. Other than that - I’m fine.”

Sirius held his hands up and jumped the last two steps onto the landing. “Okay, alright.” He stepped away and gave Remus a sly look. “Don’t vomit on me, Rem.”

Remus forced a smile. He could still smell food from the Great Hall from here. He could smell the doors to outside, the mossy, sharp freshness of January on the other side, and occasionally, when the wind changed, he could smell the fields at the edge of the forest where the Care of Magical Creatures enclosure was. He wanted to run down to the forest and dive into the undergrowth. His fists clenched and unclenched.

“I won’t vomit on you, as long as you stop asking me if I’m okay.” Remus was aware how much his voice seemed to rumble. He swallowed back the howl under his tongue and glanced at his shoes. This close to the moon he was always surprised to see feet and not paws, skin and not fur, amber eyes and not yellow, teeth and not fangs. His fists clenched and unclenched. Sirius nodded and started down the corridor towards the Hospital Wing.

The silence last approximately thirty four seconds before Sirius piped up again. “So, do your headaches last for days? Because you’ve been acting strange for a while. I mean, if they do, that’s okay. Or if it’s not them, that’s fine, too, you know. But if it’s something… you know, you can tell me.” Sirius scrubbed a hand through his hair and over the back of his neck. Remus watched the way the artery on his neck seemed to glow in the low light.

“Because, you know… it’s okay… not to be okay. You know I know that? So if you want to talk… If you like. I’m here.” Sirius’ voice dropped into a low murmur and his eyes flickered over the grey flagstones turned all manner of blue in the twilight.

Usually, it was Sirius and James’ incessant conversation that tipped Remus over the edge this close to the moon, but for some reason this time it was Sirius’ vulnerability that sent him careening.

Remus stopped so quickly Sirius crashed into his shoulder and made a soft noise of surprise. Remus turned and the predator’s instinct tugged him forward to back his friend against the wall. Sirius’ calves hit the windowsill and his face dropped into something crossing panic and confusion. Remus practically _tasted_ his heartbeat increase. The moonlight fell through the window, casting Sirius in some marvellous backlight that set his ivory skin off to perfection. Remus could only feel the burn of the moon on his insides, pulling at the tides of him.

“Sirius,” he muttered, his voice dropping even lower. “I am fine. Yes?”

Sirius nodded wildly and, quite wisely, did not move at all. “Okay, okay Rem, I’m sorry, I’ll stop asking.”

Remus nodded. The wolf howled under his tonsils and he had to clench his jaw to stop it spilling out. He stepped backwards and ducked into the Hospital Wing before Sirius could take another breath. The taste of his pulse lingered all night behind the wolfs teeth.

 

When Remus stirred from his potion-induced sleep the next evening, back in their dorm room, tucked under ruby drapes, he was met with three disgruntled voices, stage-whispers threatening to spill into barely constrained shouting.

“No, don’t be stupid,” that was Sirius’ voice, always haughty whenever it was anything other than joking. “That won’t work at all.”

“Well then, what do you suggest? I still think bewitching all the suits of armour to call them _killjoys_ is a good idea. I mean that’s what they are. That was a perfectly reasonable Quidditch after-party those Ravenclaws had to dob us in about.” James, of course, speaking a million words when one would suffice. Even though his drapes were pulled tightly shut, Remus was willing to wager that at least one of James’ hands was lodged in his hair.

“Me too.” Peter, agreeing of course.

“Well, teachers’ll be able to undo it far too easily - especially after last time - and plus, the suits of armour are fixed points, they can’t follow the little blue bastards everywhere. So we need to do something to Ravenclaw tower instead… I just don’t know what.” Sirius was probably sprawled out on his bed, head hanging backwards over the edge, hair swirling down and grazing the floor. His wand was probably being thrown backwards and forwards between his hands just for something to do.

Remus gingerly shifted onto his back, stretching one leg out and then the other. His knees popped and cracked like they were more at home with someone eight times his age, sending fire shooting up his nerves, coiling around his spine, stabbing at the base of his skull. Remus held in a whimper and clenched his eyes shut against the pain. He wiggled his toes, his fingers, gently tilted his head from side to side on his pillow. Today, the 19th of January 1973, he had two legs, two arms, two hands, two feet, both eyes, two ears, a nose and a mouth. His sanity had emerged in tact as well, he assumed with a moment of existential lucidity that shouldn’t come naturally to a 12 year old.

The conversation came filtering back through his drapes, sunlight peeking through the edges and lighting the confines of his bed a deep ruby. Remus wondered if the sight that greeted Madame Pomfrey in the morning after the full was something similar, all ruby over Remus’ tired body.

“Well no, we’d _need_ a whole herd of Snidgets for that, and to be honest, I think they’re extinct Sirius.”

“Is it a _herd_ of Snidgets? A gathering? Maybe a _murder_ , like crows?” Peter ruminated from the other side of the drapes, somewhere near Remus’ left foot.

“That’s not the point!” James’ hands had to be in his hair again, Remus would bet his entire Honeydukes stash on it. “We can’t use Snidgets, but they _do_ need to be able to fly…”

Remus groaned and gingerly rolled onto his side. He pulled one of the curtains to the side and his suspicions were entirely confirmed. Sirius was lounging upside down, but sadly on James’ bed, not his. James was cross-legged, surrounded by pieces of parchment, with both hands lodged firmly in his hair. Peter was lying on his front, picking through a packet of Bertie Bott’s to find his favourites.

“Merlin, you lot.” Remus croaked, his voice still more comfortable with a howl than the glides and friccatives of humanity. “It’s obvious, isn’t it?”

“Rem!” James clapped his hands together and scrambled forward to sit at the side of Remus’ bed. “How are you feeling? Headache any better?” Remus was glad Madame Pomfrey had told his fellow Marauders that he was allowed back in the dorm after his headaches, as long as they didn’t disturb him and let him sleep.

“Much,” Remus retorted, glad that the wolf seemed to recede almost immediately after the full. His skin felt normal, not as if the fur might burst through at any second. “Better if you three weren’t as thick as Crabbe and Bullstrode put together.”

Sirius waved an impatient hand and Peter ducked out of the way of the sparks shooting from the raven-haired boys wand. “Oh, go on then Rem, if you have all the answers!” But he was grinning the wide, open grin that only the three of them ever saw, and snatched a handful of Pete’s Beans to drop them neatly in a pile on Remus’ bedsheets beneath his nose.

Remus grinned and sorted through with his forefinger until he found a coconut one. He chewed thoughtfully before deciding to put the other three out of their misery. “How about, we charm some birds, maybe origami birds, to fly around the Ravenclaw Tower and shout _killjoys_?”

James’ face bloomed into his signature grin. “Godric, Rem! That’s a great idea!”

“Do you know a spell to do that, then?” Peter queried through a mouthful of beans.

“Yup!” Remus shifted himself up his elbow and reached for a book on his bedside table. The motion sent sparks of pain flying down his cracked ribs and Remus winced before he could hide the flash of pain.

James noticed, furrowing his brows down behind his glasses. “Alright, Rem?”

Remus just nodded, quickly shifting away from pressing a hand to his ribs, and instead pressing the heel of his palm into his eye-socket. “Yeah, that just made me feel a bit woozy, moving like that.” Thank Merlin he was a decent liar, Remus thought for a moment. He let out a short breath. “Pass me that book, James?”

“I got it!” Sirius sang, sliding off of the bed - narrowly avoiding landing directly on his own head - and crawling over to the books piled on Remus’ bedside. “This one?” At Remus’ nod, he eased it out of the stack and flipped it open.

“There’s a spell in there for creating a flock of paper birds I think. And I think we should be able to use the same charm you do on the suits of armour, James.”

Sirius pushed a wave of black hair back from his face and flicked through the book. “This is a fifth year book, Rem, why do you have it?”

Remus just shrugged and smiled enigmatically. “Madame Pince doesn’t mind me.” He tipped a few more Every-Flavour Beans into his mouth and chewed. “I snuck it out, anyway.”

 

By the end of the month, Sirius had learnt every spell in the book, and delighted in springing them on unsuspecting students throughout the Hogwarts halls. He and James were smarter than their own good, and Remus insisted that if they just _applied_ themselves to any amount of work, they would be outstanding. As it stood, the two of them still got the top marks of the class, even whilst throwing paper airplanes at each other the whole time.

The morning they enacted the ‘Great Flying Killjoy Debacle’, James and Peter crept around to the outside of Ravenclaw Tower just before morning Quidditch practice - James to play, Peter to cheer them on - and charmed a whole fleet of paper birds onto the rooftop of the tower. Remus and Sirius, on their way down to breakfast, took a _very slight_ deviation from their usual route to walk past a window overlooking Ravenclaw Tower. They both flicked their wands in perfect time, sharing a sly grin, and hurried on down to breakfast before the squawks of _‘Killjoys! Killjoys!’_ could start up.

By the time the four of them reconvened at breakfast, a scant five minutes later, Flitwick was hurrying out of the Great Hall looking put-out, and several Ravenclaws came running in to the Hall in various states of undress, obviously having fled their dormitories partway through their morning routines.

Remus ducked his head towards his cornflakes to hide a sly smile, Sirius busied himself happily with another fried-egg and toast construction in some kind of celebration, James set about eating all the hash browns he could stomach, and Peter nibbled his way through several danish pastries. After a moment, Professor McGonagall swept up to the Gryffindor table and the other second years seemed to shrink away around them. The Marauders were nonplussed.

“Hello, Professor!” Sirius chirped through a mouthful of fried egg.

James waved with a hash brown speared on the end of his fork. “Good morning, Professor!”

Remus smiled his _I’m-definitely-a-good-boy-stuck-with-these-two-troublemakers-please-save-me_ smile, and continued to eat his cornflakes. Peter stilled, mid-chew on his pastry.

“If I find out you boys have anything to do with what is happening in Ravenclaw Tower right now, I’ll have you in detention until the summer.” McGonagall levelled them with a glare made to scare the living daylights out of any student. Sirius grinned and a yellow stripe of egg yolk dripped onto his chin. James simply shrugged and carried on eating his hash browns.

“Ravenclaw Tower?” Remus queried, face schooled in a perfect expression of mildly worried, but purposefully marred by a bookish curiosity most teachers found charming.

McGonagall tutted and swept off down the Hall in a wave of tartan robes.

Sirius swallowed his mouthful and clapped Remus on the back. “Mischief managed, men.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I know this seems a little strange and episodic and a little... boring? right now, but I have some things later that needed a basis in Hogwarts, and I didn't want to go through a day-by-day of every single year of the boys at school. I hope that makes sense! I love you all.


	6. Moonage Daydream - David Bowie - 2nd Year

“I think she loves me.”

“James… you literally had to drop to the floor to avoid that hex.”

“Pfft, I don’t think she _meant_ to hit me. She was obviously testing my reflexes, you know, some kind of test to see if I really am worthy of her magnificence.”

“Worth- Oh, for Merlin’s sake, James, really?”

Peter snorted from his position well out of arms reach. “Magnificence!?”

What he didn’t account for was James’ spectacular aim, which promptly introduced a copy of _Quidditch Monthly_ to his nose. “Oi, watch it Pete, that’s my future wife you’re talking about.”

Sirius rolled his eyes from his vantage point on Remus’ bed, studying an old map of a section of Hogwarts he had found in another book Remus had unearthed in the library. Remus was squashed onto the bed next to him, ever lengthening limbs folded up towards the head of the bed. Sirius’ bed was entirely filled with piles of parchment, and a variety of potion ingredients they had sequestered in order to make some Extra-Strength Itching Potion. Sirius had gotten used to the smell of the drying Bumblethorn roots laying out on top of his blankets to dry in the cool February air, but he wasn’t a fan of sleeping next to them, so he had been burrowing his way into either James’ or Remus’ bed nightly until everything was ready. That was half the reason they had chosen his bed as the base of operations, Sirius often crawled into bed with the one of the other three if he couldn’t sleep.

Remus barely lifted his gaze from his book. “James, Lily Evans will definitely not be your future wife.” He hummed to think for a moment. “Future killer maybe.”

James threw another copy of Quidditch Weekly - where was he getting them all from!? - at Remus, but the taller boy easily batted it away, the magazine promptly landing on Sirius’ face instead.

“Hey! I am staying out of this!” Sirius called, trying to figure out which parts of the map were accurate.

“Yeah, that never happens, Sirius. What are you doing?”

“Remember that map Rem found in that book?” Sirius started, chewing the tip of his quill. “Some of it is accurate, but some of the corridors just seem… off, I’m trying to figure out why. Maybe if there are secret rooms and compartments it would be a good place to do things. Like brew bloody potions somewhere that isn’t my bed.”

“Oh?” That drew Remus’ attention, who marked his place in his book with a finger, and leant forward to study the blueprints next to Sirius. Sirius rolled onto his side to give Remus extra room, not noting how close the other boy got to him. They were all used to living in close quarters, sharing beds and a bathroom and Sirius had little shame when it came to the human body anyway. Perhaps it came from an utter lack of personal space as a child, his mother always pushing into his room, into his face. Or maybe a strange, avid curiosity with anything _other_ \- he had no real friends besides Regulus at Grimmauld Place, and so the idea of having boys his own age, just like him, was so wonderful he just wanted to pull them close and keep them as close as possible.

“See?” Sirius slung an arm around Remus’ shoulders to tug him in and point out the corridor with a suspiciously large gap between rooms. “It looks like there should be something there? Should we go and check it out?”

“Not tonight!” James piped up from his bed, surrounded by the various elements of his broomstick polishing kit, his beloved Comet 40 in his lap. “That Itching Solution needs finishing, and if it goes well we can try and get it into the Slytherin common room!”

“Do all four of us need to be there for that?” Peter’s voice wavered up from behind the Transfiguration book he was behind, trying to finish his homework for tomorrow.

“Yes! We’re Marauders! We need to do everything together, one for all, all for one!”

Remus had gone back to his book, pages flipped open at his marked place. “That’s the Musketeers, James.”

“What are Musketeers?” Sirius and James chimed in, in perfect pure-blood unison. It must be a Muggle thing, Sirius thought, because Peter hadn’t piped up and his older sister had married a muggle, so he at least must’ve had a vague idea of what Remus was talking about. But Sirius wasn’t any the wiser.

Remus just groaned and buried his nose deeper in his book.

“Okay, okay,” Sirius sat up, fluttering his fingers dismissively between Remus’ despairing look and James’ growing confusion. “The Itching Potion still needs another hour or two, doesn’t it?” He slipped off the bed to peer at the piece of parchment tacked to his bedpost, counting the hours the potion had been brewing. “That’s plenty of time for us to go and check out this potential secret room, then come back and wreak havoc on the Slytherins?”

James looked up and pushed his glasses further onto his nose with his shoulder. “Okay, fine.” James grinned, setting his polish and rag back in the box, already primed for mischief. James could be in the worst mood possible, but if Sirius suggested going to hex a Slytherin, then he would immediately perk up. “But if that potion goes off because we get distracted, that’s your fault Sirius.”

Sirius hid a flinch behind his fast-becoming-signature grin. Mother had told him often enough that everything was his fault. Getting sorted into Gryffindor was his fault, keeping company with _undesirables_ was his fault, if the pipes burst that winter in stuffy, old Grimmauld, it was his fault, somehow, a prank or something. Every time their old tutors quit, it was his fault, despite the fact her rants had obviously driven them away.

But that wasn’t what James meant. James was just kidding, joking, but it still stung. Even hidden away in the safety of the Gryffindor common room, Walburga still found ways to dig her claws in. Sirius tried to brush it away, cling to his friends and their bright smiles and everything beautiful about them that Sirius so severely lacked whenever he was forced to leave Hogwarts.

“Yeah, I’ll take the heat, c’mon!” Sirius threw open James’ trunk and fished for the Invisibility Cloak. They wouldn’t be out after curfew, but if they were hunting for secret passages, he would rather not be seen.

Peter quickly finished the sentence of his essay and scrambled off his bed to pull on his shoes, excited for adventures. But Remus still stayed on his bed, reading avidly.

“C’mon Rem,” James said, grabbing his foot and shaking it.

“Alright, alright.” Remus sighed, dog-eared the corner of his book, and stood up. Sirius was surprised every time either Remus or James drew themselves to their full height. It seemed every time they stood up they would get taller and taller. Sirius had been annoyed at first, why wasn’t he growing too!? But now it was just useful. The taller James got, the better he got at Quidditch, and thus the happier the other Marauders were, because he was grinning ear to ear. The taller Remus got, the easier it was to find him in a crowd for desperate last minute homework assistance, or the better he could stand look out for pranks that needed setting off out in the open.

Sirius shook out the Invisibility Cloak with a flourish and swooped it around onto their shoulders. Remus and James had to hunch a little for all four of them to fit under comfortably now, and Sirius thought wistfully of first year, when they could all fit under with room to spare. Perhaps that was another reason why none of them really had any kind of physical boundaries with each other; Spending any amount of time pressed together under a cloak seemed to negate any reason to be embarrassed about squishing up onto a sofa together or sharing a bed when necessary.

“We’re going to end up having to split up eventually, men,” James said with a wistful note to his voice, twitching the cloak to ensure it covered their feet.

Sirius looped his arms around James’ middle and Peter’s shoulders to draw them all closer. He didn’t want to think about that, the inevitable time where they would be split up. Would it be after Hogwarts, all going their separate ways into the world, childhood bonds unable to keep them together? Or would it be in a year or two, would one of them - probably Sirius, knowing his wonderful track record - fuck things up so royally these boys would no longer consider themselves his friends, would all their wonderful closeness be dashed onto the flagstones like his brittle body under Walburga’s open palm?

“How about we get nearby, _then_ put the cloak on?” Remus queried, a wry smile on his face. The overt sarcasm in his voice pulled Sirius back to the present and there was a moment’s pause before he spoke.

“That’s why you’re the brains of the outfit, Rem.”

James huffed and threw the cloak open, eyes wide behind his glasses, one eyebrow flying up. “Hold on! If he’s the brains, what am I? I thought I was the brains!?”

Sirius threw his head back and laughed before levelling a finger at James. “You’re the figurehead, mate.”

“The figurehead!?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sirius continued, also throwing off the cloak and starting for the dormitory stairs. “You’re the figurehead, Rem is the brains, Pete is the lookout, and I’m the brawn and the beauty, all in one!” Sirius preened and threw a wave of hair back off of his shoulder. It was getting longer now, somehow he had managed to escape Walburga cutting it all off during the Christmas break by keeping it in a neat little knot at the base of his neck in some effort to convince her it was neat and tidy and actually quite becoming of the Black heir.

James snorted and pushed his glasses back onto his nose. “Charming, Sirius, really.”

Remus grinned and leaned over to nudge Sirius in the ribs with his elbow. “I have to say, on this rare occasion - I agree with Sirius.”

 

Sirius grumbled as he cast a quick _Incendio_ on his newest letter from his father over breakfast. The latest tactic was giving him a ‘final ultimatum’ to buck up his ideas and start associating with the right people. Orion put in a lot of hard work at various social engagements and clubs throughout Wizarding London to uphold the Black name, and to have his good name besmirched by a boy who thinks he has better ideas than centuries of pure-blood (in)breeding was insulting to say the least.

Of course, Sirius wouldn’t give in. He wasn’t even sure if he was capable of keeping quiet, despite the fact he knew both of his parents would be baiting him, just looking for punishment. But over Christmas break Sirius put the Gryffindor banners all over his room, and in the hallway outside, and gleefully said _“Godric!”_ whenever possible instead of the previously suitable _Merlin_ or _Salazar_. True, Orion had ordered him into the study and berated him almost daily, and every time Walburga had to come up to the third floor of Grimmauld Place, she had burst into Sirius’ room to drag him to the floor by his hair - the one downside of growing it longer - and split his cheek under her Black signet ring.

“Another one?” James muttered from next to him through a mouthful of hash browns, jutting his chin towards the smouldering remains of the letter.

Sirius shrugged with well-practised indifference. “Yeah, I don’t care.”

“Yeah…” James could see through him instantly, like McGonagall when she knew Peter was trying to distract her from the beginnings of a wonderful prank. He always could, from that first day on the train when Sirius insisted he was _fine_. “Well, I’m here, mate. Whatever you need, I’m here. You know my parents would be happy to have you over during the holidays, so if we can get your parents to agree…” James ran a hand through his hair and poured them both another goblet of pumpkin juice.

“They won’t agree.”

“We can try though, eh? The Marauders won’t be stopped by such simple things.”

Sirius couldn’t help but grin back at James. He had been steadfast by Sirius’ side since he stepped into the corridor on the Hogwarts Express and introduced himself. Sirius thought he was just the most charismatic person he had ever seen back then. Although, now Sirius had been drawn out of his shell by James, and Peter and Remus, he thought he could give James a run for his money for Overflowing Charisma of Hogwarts. After all, Sirius was better under pressure, his charisma was a cool, suave, aloof and alluring kind of charisma - or so he’d heard from a few girls - where as James was outright, knock your socks off, blown over by his charm charisma. Or at least, most people were blown over. Lily Evans seemed like the singular exception to that, and it pained James on a daily basis.

“Phew, alright lads… thought I was gonna miss breakfast! Why didn’t you wake me!?” Peter threw himself onto a bench and began furiously buttering a piece of toast.

“I tried, mate! You nearly punched me in the face and said something about the Crups…” James ran another hand through his hair and drained his goblet of pumpkin juice.

Sirius snorted and shoved the blueberry jam closer to Peter. “And when I tried to Stinging Hex you back to consciousness, you just started shouting.”

“So we left you to it.”

Peter chewed thoughtfully on his toast before nodding sagely. “Seems wise, men.” He took another bite of toast and glanced around. “Where’s Rem?”

Sirius shrugged. “He mentioned something about another migraine yesterday.”

“He gets them a lot, doesn’t he?” Peter said through a mouthful of pumpkin juice, apparently trying to fit thirty minutes of breakfast into thirty seconds.

“Yeah, seems it…” James shrugged and pocketed what had to be his fiftieth hash brown before standing up. “C’mon lads, Sinistra will have our balls if we’re late. She always wants to get cracking the morning after the full moon.”

Sirius paused as he stepped over the bench, frowning at a curious shiver that ran through his bones. He’d heard that before, hadn’t he? A strange sense of deja vu, for hearing that exact conversation before? He shook it off, stole a swipe of jam from Peter’s toast with his forefinger and followed James out of the Great Hall.

 

Nearly a month had passed when the sense of deja vu finally dawned on Sirius. It was somewhere around 2am, and he was curled up on his side, watching the clouds drift past outside the window. The other three had fallen asleep a short while ago, after plotting out an important step to the ongoing Revenge Against the Snakes plan, but Sirius just couldn’t drift off. It happened occasionally, maybe after a letter from his parents - like the one he’d received that morning - or that the spell he couldn’t quite grasp in Transfiguration had bothered him considerably more than he let on.

In any case, his thoughts were swirling in a way not too dissimilar from the clouds outside, and Sirius had learned long ago not to fight his occasional insomnia, and just go with it. Usually he would slip into Remus’ bed and listen to him read, but the other boy was out cold tonight, fast asleep with circles like bruises under his eyes, so Sirius slunk back to his own bed trying not to feel dejected.

He followed his odd train of thought - or maybe multiple trains at this point, all going to different stations, trying to cross at the same signal change - eventually watching the moon outside, the soft shafts of light it threw over the room. There was something that was bothering him about it all, but he couldn’t quite figure it out.

What was that strange moment? Why had it bothered him when he’d walked up to McKinnon, Meadowes and Evans talking about their _time of the month_ , and how easily McKinnon would’ve thrown Sirius out of the window if it meant she could get her hands on a bar of Honeydukes Finest and a hot water bottle - whatever one of those was - right at that very second. Why had he thought of Remus? His headaches, that moment earlier in the year outside of the Hospital Wing, how off he had seemed, angry, on edge… and it came and went too, flowed in and out in a way Sirius couldn’t quite put his finge-

_Oh._

Sirius scrambled out of bed, nearly falling flat on his face when his foot caught on the blankets, and quickly dropped to the floor to search under his bed. He was _sure_ he’d kicked _Fantastic Beasts_ under there sometime last week. Sirius sat back on his heels, emerging with the book in hand, and quickly flicked through to the chapter on Werewolves.

“Merlin’s fucking saggy balls!” He nearly shouted, missing the surprised snort James gave off, and the audible groan from behind Remus’ curtains. “He’s a werewolf!?”

Sirius practically leapt over to James’ bed and shook him awake, thankful for once that he never closed the curtains. James frowned, but quickly looked panicked at the sight of Sirius kneeling, wide-eyed and frantic, over him. Peter stirred and rolled onto his back, a little confused by the sudden awakening.

“Who’s a werewolf?” Remus’ voice floated over with no visible movement from the curtains.

Sirius felt as if he were watching from outside of his own body, time slowing to a crawl around him, as he turned towards Remus’ bed. “You are…”

At that, Remus pulled back his curtains, and Sirius thought for a moment that he was seeing a ghost. Remus’ face was ashen-white, his amber eyes wide. “Don’t be stupid,” he countered, but his voice was wavering.

James, now fully awake and shoving his glasses onto his face, snatched the book from Sirius’ lap and furrowed his brow to read the passage Sirius’ fingers were splayed over. “Godric… that makes so much sense.”

Remus was still sat up halfway, fingers gripping the golden edging of the drapes around his bed. “Really, Sirius, it’s what… 2 in the morning? What are you doing?”

James pushed the book into Peter’s lap, who had climbed onto his bed on his other side, and pinned Remus with a discerning look. “It’s okay.”

That seemed to break Remus and all at once his face crumpled into a mixture of despair and terror. “Shit…” He threw back his blankets and started gathering the books from his bedside table into his arms.

Through the silvered light of the waxing moon, Sirius could see his shoulders shaking. Standing, Sirius crossed the short distance between them and laid a hand on Remus’ shoulder. He stilled immediately, and Sirius felt the tension shoot through his body. “Rem?”

Peter cleared his throat from next to James, head bent over the book. “Knew it wasn’t headaches…”

James nodded vigorously. Somehow, beneath the wonky glasses and the haywire hair - only made a million times worse thanks to the way he scrubbed his head into his pillow at night - James looked far older than his 13 years. “What are you doing, Rem?”

“Packing.” Remus’ voice came short and tight from the back of his throat. He shrugged Sirius’ hand from his shoulder and dropped the armful of books into his trunk.

“Why?” Sirius turned slightly to watch as Remus trailed back to his bedside and scooped up another armful of belongings. The room seemed endlessly silent, James and Peter watching from the former’s bed, pouring over the book Sirius had unearthed, Sirius bridging the gap to Remus like reaching out into the sea, trying to pull a drowning man back to shore. He felt as if he were dreaming, clawing his way back to consciousness.

Remus shook his head. “When everyone finds out, I imagine I won’t have much chance to get my things together before I get kicked out.”

“Why would they kick you out?” Peter asked, voice carefully measured.

“Because I’m a monster!” Remus finally turned towards them, and Sirius didn’t miss the tears clinging to his lower lashes.

Sirius couldn’t help the snort of laughter that escaped his lips. “No you’re not, Rem. You have a cactus named Colonel Prickles.”

“You’re our friend, mate. You’re a Marauder!” James agreed, nodding solemnly.

“I- um…” Remus rubbed a hand over his face, and Sirius saw all the scars over his fingers glint silver in the moonlight. “Really?”

“Really,” the trio chorused back, Peter wide-eyed but present, James always so steadfast and sure, Sirius with feet firmly planted, pinning Remus with his most convincing stare.

Remus let out a sort of strangled sob, turning his face away into his shoulder and towards the shadow of the room. “This isn’t a prank or anything? I’m not gonna wake up tomorrow to McGonagall dragging me out of here?” His voice pitched at the end, breaking over the silence of the room.

Sirius shook his head and took a step towards Remus, holding his hand out. “No way. Your secret is safe with us.”

“Better than safe.” James sat forward and scrubbed the heel of his palm through his hair. “We can cover for you, make sure you get notes for classes, think of excuses for you, you know if people ask… Whatever you need Rem, we can help.”

Remus stared between Sirius’ outstretched hand and the point just over his shoulder where James and Peter sat. “Y-you’re not kidding, are you?”

“No, Rem.” Sirius stepped forward and put a hand on Remus’ arm. He knew as well as the next person that a hug out of nowhere could be worse than no contact at all, so he was cautious. He didn’t want to freak Remus out more than he already was. “We’re really not. I solemnly swear it. We’re Marauders, we love you.”

James slipped off the bed and moved forward to Sirius’ side, putting his hand on Remus’ arm too. Then Peter was there, following James’ lead as always and looking up at Remus with an earnest expression. Sirius slid his hand up to Remus’ shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “See? You’re our friend, Rem.”

“Yeah, nothing can get between that… even if you do turn into a slavering beast every 28 days. No big deal, it’s all groovy.” James grinned, blinding bright in the midnight darkness.

Remus tried a watery laugh but it soon descended into a whimper, and Sirius watched as tears tracked their way down his cheeks. He crossed the gap between them and pulled Remus into a tight hug, arms around his shoulders. James was hot on his heels, wrapping an arm around both of them and resting his chin on the top of Sirius’ head - much to his chagrin, but it wasn’t the time nor place to kick up a fuss. Peter nudged in at Remus’ other side, an arm around both his and Sirius’ middles. The three of them just held on even as the sobs wracked Remus’ shoulders, eyes politely averted but knuckles white around each others arms, the four of them closer than it felt like anyone else had ever been in the history of the world.

When Remus finally slumped forward and shuddered a breath, Sirius smiled and squeezed his shoulders slightly. “We’re Marauders, Rem. We’ll help, you’re not by yourself.”

Remus just shook his head in disbelief and smiled through the tears glittering in his amber eyes.James smiled at the other three before stepping back and snatching his wand from his bedside table. With a wave of his wand, all the blankets and pillows from the four beds arranged themselves in the middle of the room.

“I’d say this calls for a Marauder Camp-Out,” he said by way of explanation, crossing over to climb into the pile of duvets. Peter grinned at once and went to his trunk, rifling through to find a stash of chocolate frogs before climbing under the covers next to James. Sirius smiled reassuringly at Remus, who still seemed slightly shell-shocked, and nudged him forward.

When they were all settled, Sirius staring at the ceiling and idly munching squares of chocolate, Remus cleared his throat. “You really don’t care I’m a… you know?”

“A werewolf?” Sirius supplied, licking his fingers clean of melted chocolate. “Rem, I know I couldn’t care less.”

“Seconded.” Peter’s voice came from beneath a few pillows where he was idly practising a light-up word spell specifically to try and cuss out Slytherins - it seemed quite reluctant to say the word _fuck_.

“Third-ed!’” James was trying to build a tower from Exploding Snap cards. Sirius definitely didn’t want to admit he’d cast a sly _Flipendo_ to knock the last one over, resulting in a poof of soot over his glasses.

Remus grinned from next to Sirius and he felt a burst of warmth in his chest to see a smile so open and real on his friends face. Sirius would move heaven and earth to make his friends smile like that, he thought, the idea of anyone hurting them lodging in his throat. Sirius turned his head and watched for a moment, his three best friends in the world, tangled around him, all gangly teenage limbs and everything uncertain except unwavering loyalty.

Later, when James and Peter had dozed off, Sirius scooted closer to Remus and rested his head on his shoulder. “Hey, Rem.” Remus made a noise of assent and shifted a little to get comfortable. “Read to me?”


	7. Midnight Rambler - The Rolling Stones - 2nd Year

Two arms, two legs, ten toes, ten fingers, two ears, two eyes, a nose.

It was all there, as Remus came to consciousness the morning after the moon, with a ragged sigh that tore at his throat. The dull distant ache roared into the foreground, turned fiery and all-encompassing, like it did every time Remus woke and jolted back to his body after the lunar tides were ripped right out of him.

When he was sure he was still in tact, far off memories of the Shack, ripping at the floorboards blurring into the background of his mind - huh, his nails hadn’t survived again - Remus opened an eye.

He was in the Hospital Wing, in his usual bed, cordoned off from the rest in some inconspicuous corner. Like always, he had walked up to the Hospital Wing from the Willow with Pomfrey in the first few minutes of daylight, but he was never quite there, never quite fully seated back in his body after the wolf. It always took a few hours for him to feel like Remus again. He could hear Madame Pomfrey fussing outside the curtain drawn around his bed, her soft mellifluous humming to another student as she worked her magic. Remus stretched his toes before gingerly pushing himself up into a better seated position.

The movement must’ve alerted Madame Pomfrey, whose senses sometimes seemed more honed than the wolfs, especially when it came to her students, as she bustled into his curtained off area a moment later.

“Hello Remus-” she never said _Good morning_ , that was something he noticed, well aware it wasn’t a _good_ morning when one woke up after a werewolf transformation- “how are we doing today?”

Remus nodded and opened his mouth a few times before he managed to form the words, throat hoarse from howling. “Okay… Tired… my fingers hurt.”

“Yes, you’ve broken your nails quite a bit. I should be able to fix them right up though.” Pomfrey bustled closer, pulled out her wand and tapped tidily on the back of Remus’ hand. His nails knit themselves back together, no longer ragged and ripped. He clenched his fingers against the shiver of magic over his nail beds and stretched them back out, glad for the absence of pain. “Do you think you’re able to stomach something to eat Remus?”

“Mhmm, I’ll try.” Remus cleared his throat again, the wolf receding now in the early morning.

“Good lad. I’ll sort that, you see if you can get some more rest.”

“Yes ma’am.” Remus let his eyes closed, happy to acquiesce to her request, despite the fact he would probably miss Defence this afternoon if she had her way.

It was strange. Remus had half expected this moon to be awful - it was the first after his friends discovered his affliction, and he presumed the wolf would be unhappy. He thought all the lingering terror that his secret was going to come out would boil over with the wolf and he’d end up with a nasty gash across his abdomen like he did after a few Slytherins started howling in Defence and he was certain they were doing it _at him._ But they weren’t, they didn’t do anything. The other Marauders had wondered why Remus was so shaken that day, and why he looked especially pallid after that migraine. But now he didn’t need to hide it.

Sirius, James and Peter knew. They knew that he went down to the Shrieking Shack last night and spent the moonlight as a werewolf, but yet, they still made plans to reconvene after Transfiguration and hex all the portraits on the fourth floor to only cuss and scream. Peter still shared his sweet treats with him, James still slung an arm around his shoulder and quizzed him on that period in History of Magic he’d managed to nail down, and Sirius still crawled into his bed at night, listened to him read Lord of the Rings, even when he had to pause and clear his throat for the howl brewing there. It felt like things were going _right_ , and that was a terrifying feeling.

“Mr Black, can I help you?”

Remus stirred a little at Madame Pomfrey’s voice a time later, jolting out of his half sleep to see a plate of sandwiches under a stasis charm on the table next to him.

“Well, if you must. Be quiet though, none of your shenanigans, Mr Black. I’ve had you in here enough.”

“Yes ma’am.” Sirius’ voice slid through the curtains, uncharacteristically quiet and demure. A moment later the boy himself tumbled through the drapes, grinning ear to ear. “Rem! How are you?”

“Sirius… what are you doing here?” Remus watched, voice hoarse with howls, as Sirius settled in the chair beside his bed and plucked up one of the sandwiches.

“Keeping you company, of course.” Sirius chewed one corner of the sandwich and leant onto the bed with one arm. “… Really, are you alright? How was-” he lowered his voice- “the moon?”

Remus blinked a moment, unused to the openness on Sirius’ face, the genuine concern he could see there in grey eyes and pinched eyebrows. Sirius remained quiet, focused on Remus’ face, waiting for an answer instead of getting distracted by something else like he usually did. “It was okay… Nothing- nothing too bad.”

Sirius nodded, seeming appeased for the moment, and took a bite of the sandwich before shoving the other half towards Remus. “You should eat, shouldn’t you? Peter gave me a frog to give to you, he and James are at Quidditch practice.” Sirius dug in the pocket of his robes and retrieved a Chocolate Frog, passing it to Remus, pressing it into his other, sandwich-free hand. It was a little melted from his body heat, and the thought seemed to stick in Remus’ mind like treacle.

“You didn’t have to come and see me…” Remus chewed thoughtfully at his sandwich, studying the weave of the bedspread beneath his hands.

“Don’t be stupid, you’re my best friend, Rem. Of course I’m going to make sure you’re alright.”

“Your best friend?” Remus thought James was Sirius’ best friend, that the honour went to him alone, and although his heart thrilled at the idea, his mind supplied that he, James and Peter were probably tied for _joint_ best friends in Sirius’ mind. He tried not to wonder why that disappointed him.

“Of course.” Sirius smiled like a thousand suns.

Remus smiled back, his face flushing red at the ease with which Sirius bared his soul. Remus almost envied it, it seemed like Sirius’ heart was on his sleeve in every way, and it only made the kernel of affection in Remus’ own heart flare even further. Oh how did he get so lucky, to have friends like Sirius, and James, and Peter?

“Thank you, Sirius… that’s kind of you.”

“It’s what friends do, Rem, don’t worry about it.” Sirius budged the chair closer and folded his arms on the side of the bed, before laying his forehead on his hands.

“You alright?”

“Mhmm,” Sirius hummed, shifting so his whole upper body was on the bed.

Remus chuckled a little, gingerly touching the wave of inky hair curling around Sirius’ ear, the bloom of rosemary shampoo hitting his overly sensitive nose.

“Didn’t really sleep last night.” Sirius’ voice came from in the covers, muffled softly. He didn’t seem to mind that Remus’ fingers were floating through his hair, so soft like shards of silk.

“No?” Remus watched the play of light, the shift of midnight blue-black oddly calming, something easy and aesthetic to focus on when he hurt so much, soft under his still bloody fingers, comforting.

“Nah… was worrying about you. I can see the Willow from our dorm if I sit on the windowsill, you know.”

Remus jumped a little when his finger accidentally grazed the shell of Sirius’ ear, his skin surprisingly warm. When Sirius didn’t react, he began trailing through his hair again, surprised by how open Sirius seemed, sleepy with the morning, bright in the early sunrise. “Sirius… You didn’t need to…”

“I know, Rem. Not like I wanted to… just was… thinking about you all night, knowing what you go through every month.” Sirius’ voice dropped lower, more quiet into the bedclothes. Remus felt the puff of his breath against his thigh and gently scratched through Sirius’ hair, feeling sleepiness coming off him in waves, buffeting Remus with comfort. His eyes shuttered closed just as Sirius murmured, “Mm, ’s nice.”

Remus drifted back off to sleep, half a sandwich forgotten in one hand, the other lodged in Sirius’ hair, twirled through silken strands, with Sirius’ face pressed against his knee, nuzzled into the bedclothes.

 

Pomfrey woke Remus and Sirius with a wry smile on her face a few hours later. Sirius seemed thoroughly unaffected, smoothing his hair back down with one hand and straightening his tie with the other. Remus, on the other hand, flushed bright red and squirmed into the covers, hoping to disappear entirely under them.

Pomfrey bustled around the other side of Remus and peered at him. “You seem to be doing alright, Remus. Happy enough to go back to the dormitories?”

Remus nodded, watching Sirius straighten his shirt and slip out of the curtains to give him some semblance of privacy. That, too, was so un-Sirius like that Remus found himself frowning at the gap in the curtains instead of answering Pomfrey. She cleared her throat and Remus jolted.

“Um, yes, sorry, sorry. I think I’ll be fine. I feel a lot better.” Remus tore his gaze from the curtains to see Pomfrey smiling wryly again. He wondered what had made her smile like that, with a twinkle in her eye, for a moment before he shook his head again. “Think I could make it to Defence class this afternoon?”

Pomfrey sighed and cast a quick charm over his body, humming happily when it pinged nicely - Remus was utterly bewildered by it, but hopeful regardless. “I don’t see why not, if you’re sure you won’t exhaust yourself.” She glanced back to the curtains. “It’s lunchtime, so perhaps get some hot food in you and see how you feel.”

Remus nodded and waited until Pomfrey had left again before slipping from the bed and dressing. Everything was sore and stiff, but nothing was overwhelmingly painful. Of course his arms, torso and lower legs were covered in scratches, but they seemed mostly superficial, thankfully, and by this point, scratches were parr for the course, and the least of his worries. Remus shrugged on his clothes and shoved his feet into his shoes. Ducking out of the curtains, he saw Sirius there waiting for him, hands in his pockets, looking somewhere between haughty pureblood heir and local delinquent. Remus grinned, knowing just how perfectly both of those descriptions suited his friend.

“Lunch, Rem?” Sirius started towards the doors and Remus fell in step with him, feeling another wave of affection at the way Sirius didn’t seem to care one jot that his friend was recovering from some awful Dark creature transformation.

In the Great Hall, they ate in companionable silence. James and Peter were _somewhere_. Sirius grumbled for a while that they needed to invent some kind of tracking spell to keep a hold of each other, but he was soon distracted by the macaroni cheese that appeared before them.

Remus couldn’t deny his chin kept dropping towards his chest - perhaps he was more tired than he thought he was after all. Sirius nudged him with a deceptively pointy elbow every time his eyes drooped.

After the fifth time Sirius laughed and pulled him by the arm away from Gryffindor table. “We’ve still half an hour of lunch left. Why don’t you go and nap? I’ll come with you, wake you up when we need to go for Defence.”

Remus stifled a yawn into the crook of his elbow. “Alright.”

It felt as if he blinked and heard Sirius mutter _Fizzing Frisbees_ for the Fat Lady. The door of their dormitory clicking shut seemed to bring him back to life enough to toe off his shoes. Sometimes a good meal made him feel a million times better after the moon, and sometimes it made him want to sleep for a week. It seemed the latter was more likely today, Remus thought as he pulled off his robes - not bothering with his shirt and trousers - and crawled into bed.

Sirius chuckled. “You must be knackered Rem… all that howling around takes it out of you, huh?”

Remus lifted a heavy arm to flip him the bird and was rewarded with another wonderful peal of Sirius’ laughter as the bed dipped next to him. Sirius’ warm fingers found his forearm, tracing a vein there before pulling the covers up over him.

“Good job I’m tired or I’d be really offended by that quip, Sirius,” Remus muttered into his pillow.

Sirius’ reply was entirely muffled by a yawn of his own.

Remus smiled softly. “You’re tired too.”

“Mhmm.”

“You stayed up all night looking out for me.” Remus’ voice sounded dreamy even to his own ears, soft and sleep-drunk.

“Mhmm.” The bed dipped closer, Sirius’ body slotting behind his with the ease of nearly two years of sharing space.

Remus hummed happily, touched by the admission of Sirius’ caring. Sometimes, in the depths of his moon despair, his shallowest tides, Remus wondered if Sirius tolerated he and Peter purely because they were James’ friends. But at times like this, feeling raw from the moon, Sirius reminding him of his humanity with his offerings of friendship, unwavering after his secrets were bared, Remus realised they were friends of their own making. Remus let out a long breath, senses finally filtering back to humanity, to the smell of Sirius’ shampoo, that hum in his veins of _home, home, home._

 

“Wondered where you two had got to!” James’ voice boomed into the dormitory - James’ voice could do nothing _but_ boom, Remus reckoned.

Remus stirred, sputtering black hair from his mouth. Sirius, whose face was tucked into his forearms, had somehow ended up as the little spoon, curled into Remus’ torso, his back pressed securely against Remus’ front.

“Oooh, you two skivers! I wouldn’t put it past Sirius, but you, Rem? Missing Defence as well, that’s your favourite, isn’t it? What a shame, actually! Was a corker of a lesson, practical, interesting, I would say damn near enlightening, wouldn’t you Pete? Except-” James clambered onto the bed and laid on Sirius’ other side, shoving his face into his and squaring Sirius with a look that brought him sharply out of his slumber- “I was missing the other half of my bloody pranking duo, and the whole idea to charm open the pixie cage backfired entirely when Pete and I couldn’t get a good distraction!”

Peter flopped down onto his own bed with a creak of springs. “Guess who got detention with Professor Thrawn for two nights after _someone_ -” He glared at James- “made me get on the table and dance for a distraction, pretending I was under some kind of Dancing Hex.”

James chuckled, but Remus could see the little glint in his eye that said he was actually quite disappointed their prank didn’t come to fruition.

Sirius scrubbed his face into his forearm and smiled at James. Of course, of course James smiled back - the two of them were bound so tightly together it was impossible to think of them separately. “Sorry Jamie, guess I was more tired than I thought.”

James peered at Sirius, trying to decide whether to forgive him - as if it weren’t a foregone conclusion. Remus immediately sat up to try and give them some space. He felt he should almost be embarrassed for sleeping curled up with Sirius, but none of the other boys cared so he found he didn’t either.

“I guess you’re forgiven then, mate,” James replied, scrubbing a hand through Sirius’ hair. In a moment the pair were wrestling, scrambling all over Remus’ bed trying to get each other into headlocks and assert some kind of boyhood dominance Remus never fully understood. Remus, still sleepy from the moon, just shot Peter a look. Pete shrugged and grinned before digging in his pocket to produce another Chocolate Frog. Remus grinned in return and joined Peter on the other bed to chat idly about their Herbology homework.

Everything did, in fact, feel utterly normal, considering how Remus had bared his soul only a few weeks earlier, and now the secret he had always been told would ruin him was out. His friends were still his friends, James still grinned like an idiot at him during lessons, Peter still shared his sweets, and Sirius, Sirius visited him in the Hospital Wing and stayed up all night to watch the Whomping Willow, _just in case_.

But Remus being Remus, worry simmering under his skin like the fur of the wolf, knew that it wouldn’t last long, as much as he hoped everything would stay the same.

 

The moon always burned. Worse than high noon in the summer, worse than sitting too close to the Gryffindor fireplace, or accidentally stumbling into a burning cauldron because Sirius and James got a little too rambunctious in Potions class one day.

It was only getting worse the older he got, the silvery burning light, as he waited in the Shack, naked as a babe, clothes and wand stored away well out of the wolf’s reach. His skin ached, felt too tight and too loose all at once, as if he might just up and fly away from it, some useless hunk of flesh that betrayed him every 28 days.

Remus thought of Sirius, of James, and of Peter, of the three of them up in the warmth of the common room. He imagined Peter would be pouring over his chess set, or practising the spell he’d invented for trying to ascertain the difference between the earwax or toffee flavoured Beans. James would be staring across the common room at Lily Evans, whom Remus had gotten paired with in History of Magic the other week and _still_ hadn’t heard the end of it from James. He had said the word Lily so often Remus thought it might’ve worn his tongue out.

It was hard to pinpoint what Sirius might be doing at any given moment, really. He was either knee-deep in homework - probably due the next day - and looking every bit the scholar, ink smudged fingers, wand holding his hair into a messy bun, eyes fierce and silver-bright in their concentration. Or, equally likely, he was doing something awfully disruptive, trying to climb the tapestry of Godric on one wall, or stacking the furniture - _Gee, Frank, I’m only practising my Levitation Charm_. Or he and James were huddled together - Sirius was one of the only things that could hold his attention more than Evans currently - plotting something dastardly that Remus would have to wade in to tomorrow morning and make feasible and ensure they wouldn’t get into _too_ much trouble.

Thinking of his friends always helped assuage the burning of the moon, the pull of the tides within him, but only for so long. Remus came back to his body with a thud and a scream as he fell to his knees. The wolf felt tenacious already, clawing its way out, rearing up through tearing skin and snapping muscle and breaking bone. Remus could only scream and scrabble desperately at the floorboards searching for some kind of purchase. He thought of his friends for one moment longer, feeling the twinge of warmth in his chest, the hum of _home, home, home_ before the wolf took his place.

The wolf did not like being confined. It did not like being in this tiny room, smelling so many interesting scents on the other side of the door, the forest calling to it like a homing beacon. The wolf wanted the forest, it wanted undergrowth and trees and wildlife, to _run_ , to _chase_ , to _hunt_. It wanted, it wanted, it wanted, and it was going to get.

Remus did not come awake in the morning light.

He did not stir until it was already bright, and he was back in the Hospital Wing, sandwiches under a stasis charm, heating charms on the blankets, and the deafening, clenching roar of pain buzzing in his ears.

Merlin, everything hurt, _everything_. He tried to clear his throat, but it sent shards of glass-like pain into his chest. Remus grasped the sheets, trying to breathe through the pain and catalogue everything. He still had two eyes, a nose, a mouth, two ears. Ten fingers - shaking awfully - ten toes, two legs, two arms and Merlin _burning_ , it all hurt.

“Remus!” Madame Pomfrey bustled in as Remus was trying to make sense of the well of pain in his torso. “Merlin boy, you gave me a fright this morning. Here, drink this, slowly, slowly.” She moved to his side to hold a goblet out to him - the potion within red, thick and viscous and oddly blood-like. “You’ve lost a lot of blood.”

Remus blinked a few times to try and understand her words through the fog, gulping down the awful blood-like potion against the rasping of his throat. When he tried to sit up, a shard of pain ricocheted through his middle, and when he instinctively put his hand to the pain, it came away stained bright red with blood. Airily, Remus thought it might be the potion for a moment before he felt woozy, and Pomfrey tutted something and began casting healing charms, their magic tickling Remus’ nose.

 

When Remus awoke again, it was already sunset. Everything hurt, still, the hot pain of inflammation and too much blood under the surface of his skin. It was rippling through him, buffeting waves of it crashing into his body, ceaseless currents like that time he went swimming in the Menai Straits. When he was sure he could wiggle his toes and not die, Remus cracked an eye open and was met immediately with three pairs of wide eyes set in three pale faces.

Sirius, James and Peter all looked up from their laps, where they appeared to be reading or writing, and stared at Remus, ashen as if they had seen a ghost - only, they saw ghosts every day, and didn’t look half as frightened as they did now. Coming face-to-face with a Dementor seemed more accurate for the expressions on his friends faces.

“Rem…” James was the first to speak, and Remus knew something was wrong when James actually _whispered_.

“Wha- what happened?” Remus would’ve been frantic if he had the energy, if his voice wasn’t hoarse and he felt more animal than human. “What’s wrong?”

Peter made a soft noise, and James ran an awkward hand through his hair.

“You, mate… you. You look awful… Pomfrey wouldn’t let us in… all day. We realised something was wrong when-” James trailed off, staring at Remus all wide-eyed and looking every bit a 13 year old boy.

“We’ve been here all afternoon, usually you’re back with us by now…” Peter wrung his hands together, blue eyes darting all over the curtained room. He sighed and dug in his pocket. “I bought Frogs, but Pomfrey said you shouldn’t eat anything until you’ve had a Pain Potion.”

“Yeah,” Remus croaked, gingerly trying to sit up.

In an instant, the three Marauders were at his side, James and Peter taking an elbow each and levering him up to sitting.

“She said this one…” Peter mumbled to himself as James made a show of fluffing his pillows. Peter uncorked the potion and held it out to him. His fingers were white around the neck of the bottle and Remus blinked a few times to focus on them, the idea of his friends being scared for him seemed so alien.

Remus nodded gratefully and drank the potion, trying to ignore his hands shaking. He swallowed a few times around his raw throat and sank back into the pillows. “Thanks… you didn’t have t-”

“Oh shut up Remus.” Sirius’ voice came from his side, sharp and short and every bit the aristocratic pure-blood heir. He was stood to the side, arms crossed over his stomach. James shot him a glare that Remus saw but couldn’t bring himself to argue against.

“Of course we need to, you’re our bloody friend, aren’t you?” Sirius huffed and sat on the edge of the bed at Remus’ knee, careful not to jostle him and yet still maintain his huffy persona.

Remus just nodded and set the empty Pain Potion bottle back on the bedside table. James and Peter fell silent - James finally leaving the pillows well alone, and Peter finally finishing emptying his pockets of sweets.

After a moment, Sirius seemed to droop, all of the energy around him wilting away on an exhale. He lifted his hand and gingerly laid it on Remus’ knee. “I heard you,” he whispered, looking at the floor. Remus reached out and took Sirius’ hand out of instinct. He didn’t squeeze back.

“… What?”

Sirius shook his head, then, apparently flustered by the hair in his face, raked it up with his fingers and secured it with a jab of his wand. “ _I heard you_. At- in the dorm, I thought I heard something, a howl on the wind, or something.” Sirius looked the exact opposite of composed, his face stark and pale, mouth drawn in a harsh line, brows furrowed over dark eyes.

James, who looked softer than usual, dark circles under his eyes, put an arm around Sirius’ shoulders. “So… we went down to the edge of the Quidditch pitch, the side closest to the Willow, you know.”

“And we heard you. Howling, barking…” Sirius took back over, as if he and James were constantly having their own conversations, and only sometimes Remus and Peter were deigned to be a part of them. “ _Screaming_.” Sirius scrubbed a hand over his face, and when he dropped it back to his lap, finally laced his fingers with Remus’. “I wanted to go to you.”

Remus balked and felt what little blood he had left drain from his face. His hands were shaking awfully. No, they couldn’t have. Remus would never forgive himself if he ever hurt his friends, if he ever so much as looked at them wrong when the moon was too close to full he would never forgive himself. He had got them, and he would do anything within his power not to mess up their relationships. He didn’t realise he’d uttered the word _No_ until Peter took his other hand.

“We convinced him not to.” Peter looked awful too, watery-eyed, his uniform rumpled, his face splotchy. “We just stayed at the edge of the pitch all night… until we saw Pomfrey coming down…”

“I knew something was wrong.” Sirius sounded angry, but his chin was tilted down and he still held Remus’ hand so tight. “I knew it. I wanted to come to the Hospital Wing straight away but Jamie said that would mean Pomfrey would be onto us… but then by lunchtime, you weren’t back… I knew something was wrong, _I knew it_.”

“It’s okay, Sirius… I’m okay.” Remus squeezed his fingers. Sirius flinched at the way his knuckles cracked.

“You’re _not_. You’re hurt!”

Remus cracked a smile as James sat next to Sirius, casting another heating charm on his blankets with an enviable insouciance, and Peter passed him a sandwich. His heart felt fit to burst. He wasn’t alone, he would never have to be alone ever again with these three boys around him, so concerned, so willing to go to amazing lengths for him. Remus’ whole body hummed with _home, home, home_.

“But I’m okay. I’ve got you three, haven’t I?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Your readership, comments and kudos make my week! I love you all! <3 You can also come say hi on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/jennandblitz) where I gush about the Marauders and all the wonderful people in this fandom. 🖤


	8. Starman - David Bowie - 2nd Year

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're at home with the Blacks this chapter, so some triggers for child abuse here, look after yourself if that might not be good for you!

“I’ll look for things, Jamie. There’s got to be _something_ useful in that cesspit of a house.”

That’s what Sirius had said in his parting words to James Potter on the train platform, before he was whisked away by Walburga, who had been sneering even more than usual. Now, in the library of Grimmauld Place, Sirius knew he was wrong, there was _nothing_ useful in this house at all.

He had thought his first summer back from Hogwarts was awful, but this was a whole other level. Walburga had said three words to him since he got back two weeks ago. All of her orders had either come through Kreacher or Regulus. Orion had been even more absent than usual, his presence only made known by the banging of doors late at night and a voice that echoed right through every room. Being back at Grimmauld felt like an ice bath, desperately trying to adjust when he had been so used to the warm showers of Hogwarts.

It didn’t help, either, that he had been entirely cut off from his friends. Walburga had forbid him from the family owl, and burned every letter he had received with a flourish at the breakfast table every morning. The first morning, it had hurt, seeing James’ scrawl and Remus’ neat script and Peter’s bubbling print reduced to cinders before Walburga’s awful smile, but by the tenth letter, Sirius was numb to it. He had watched another one from James go up in flames that morning, and then, eating what he could stomach and pocketing the rest - because dinner was becoming an increasingly rare occurence - Sirius had sequestered himself in the library.

Almost every book that _didn’t_ try to bite him was laid out on the small reading table, overflowing down onto the floor, and across the window seat that seemed like an even more dour place to sit that his current hard-back chair.

“There has to be something here…” Sirius muttered to himself, flicking through several books at once. His wand was securing his hair into a messy topknot, despite his not really being able to use it outside of Hogwarts, he felt _better_ to have it there just in case, occasionally fuelling some idle daydream fancy of finally fighting back to Walburga’s backhands and hexing her awful smile right off. The black on his fingers wasn’t the nail polish he’d stolen off McKinnon a few weeks earlier - because despite being a _girl_ McKinnon wasn’t bad, she painted her nails black too, and talked about David Bowie and this Muggle from America called Janis Joplin - but instead smudges of ink from his hurried notes. Perhaps some of his classmates would be surprised to see Sirius Black looking so studious, bottom lip caught between his teeth, quill twirled around his fingers as he read. But Sirius didn’t care - _he_ knew he was smart, he knew he didn’t need to concentrate in classes, and would pass any tests if he just applied a modicum of effort.

But here? Oh here, the stakes were different.

After that night - the night of no sleep, the night of negative sleep, the night that made him feel like he would never sleep again - Sirius vowed that Remus would not spend any more time howling and keening like he had than absolutely neccessary. The noise had haunted him for weeks, imagining Remus in the Shrieking Shack - it was always so tattered and mouldy and disgusting and just a _little_ like the basement of Grimmauld in his mind - curled on his side, transforming into the Dark creature that lived inside him and sprang to the surface every 28 days.

His first port of call was to research everything he could about lycanthropy. The books in the library were wrong though, they _had_ to be. They spoke of werewolves as disgusting creatures, less than animals, capable only of hunting and killing and not even close to human even when the moon was less than full.

Sirius scoffed and pushed the books away, sending one flying onto the floor. “That’s fucking absurd.”

Remus wasn’t like that at all. The books must be wrong, all of them, entirely wrong. Because Remus was still Remus every other night of the month, still that kind boy with the sharpest wit in the Gryffindor common room, the brains of all their pranks, the one to point out that Sirius would indeed get caught up in the tidal wave of sludge if he cast the spell like _that_. Remus definitely wasn’t some rabid beast who ate children whole from their cribs at night.

“What’s absurd?” Regulus’ voice was quiet from the doorway, but Sirius shot up as if someone had pointed a Blasting Hex right at him. Sirius, who was always able to cover when something was wrong, always able to pretend he wasn’t eating the food he’d snuck upstairs or flicking through the Muggle magazines Remus had given him last year, put his arm over the books as he leant on the table.

“Just this History of Magic essay, Reg.” Sirius swallowed around the lie and shut a few books with an exasperated sigh. “Be glad you’re not at Hogwarts yet.”

Regulus shrugged and padded over to the table. He had grown so much since Sirius had seen him properly, the months stretching between them whilst he was at Hogwarts, and the guilt was never stronger than when he came back to see Regulus still sat in the window seat of the drawing room where he left him. “I don’t know… it’s boring here without you Siri.”

Sirius laughed, something between an awful chuckle and a self-depricating huff. “Merlin, Reg. It can’t be that bad can it? I bet Father shouts at least 300% less without me here. Don’t get half as many tellings-off from the tutors.”

Regulus shrugged again. He was quieter, now Sirius wasn’t here to draw him out. Sirius wondered if he could see the reflection of himself in his younger brother, in those first few hours or days back at Hogwarts, his friends pulling him out of his shell thread by thread. But Regulus did not have anyone to pull him out of his shell, and he had always gone along with their parents wishes quietly, without a fight - or the corresponding black eye - and Sirius wondered for his brothers mental state now. He was 11, so young and impressionable and Sirius had always been bullheaded and brash and _loud_ about his disagreements, but Regulus would just go along with it. That terrified Sirius.

“I guess.”

Sirius shut another book, sliding it under a sheaf of parchment, and hoped his sleight of hand wasn’t too obvious. Regulus was studying him, his face, his silhouette in the relief of the sunny window. Sirius wondered for a moment who he resembled more out of their parents now he was growing, and the thought sent acid bubbling through his insides. He didn’t want to look like either of them.

There never used to be a silence between the two brothers, always used to be vaguely companionable at least, like his silences with James now, curled in each others beds for the solace of another body, but now Regulus felt miles away. Sirius felt as if he were still in Scotland with how far away Regulus felt. Aching to fill the silence, longing once again for James, for Remus and for Peter, Sirius cleared his throat.

“So, what’s it been like? Learn anything else fun this year?” Sirius crossed his arms and tried to push away the strange discomfort he felt looking at his brother, his brother who looked less and less like his brother and more like a stranger, more like a tiny Orion.

Regulus climbed into the seat next to him, the oversized, over-carved dark wooden chair looking like some awful throne to a dynasty neither of them could escape. “Not much… More French… more spell theory… more family history… it’s all very boring without your pranks.”

“Mother wouldn’t agree with that.”

“No, but-” Regulus’ eyes flickered towards the door, as they were wont to do in this house whenever Walburga was spoken about or even thought of- “when do you ever care what she agrees with?”

“Oh, just never.” Sirius smiled but he had a terrible feeling it didn’t reach his eyes the same way it didn’t reach his insides.

Regulus shifted forward to peer at the books and leafs of parchment on the table, his pale fingers flickering over some of the edges. “The Werewolf Trials?”

“Mhmm.” Sirius swallowed back the wave of acid that hit through his body. “Writing this essay on the introduction of the Werewolf Register.” Merlin alive, this was a bad idea, steering the conversation to werewolves with his brother, his brother brought up by his parents, his parents who sneer at Mudbloods and half-breeds and anyone who hasn’t been married to their cousins for at least ten generations.

Regulus pushed the book back towards him. “That’s good… it’s a good thing I mean. Those kind of monsters running around, right?”

The colour felt as if it flooded from Sirius’ face in a single tidal wave, swiftly replaced by red, by anger, by seething, spitting anger and the sheer incredulity of _oh no, you bloody don’t_. “No, it’s not. It’s- it’s-”

“Regulus!” Walburga’s voice comes from the doorway, her fingers tight on the doorframe, her grey eyes - Sirius’ eyes, Walburga’s eyes - piercing into Regulus, not a glance towards Sirius, as if he wasn’t even there.

“Your languages tutor is here. Quickly. Do not keep him waiting.”

Regulus slid from his seat and subconsciously straightened his robes. Sirius was in robes too, and hating every minute of it. Ever since he’d tried on a pair of James’ Muggle jeans - despite him being a pure-blood too, his parents let him wear Muggle clothes? - and seen McKinnon wearing a David Bowie t-shirt and _insisting_ he borrow it, Sirius had worn his school robes as little as possible. In the end, McKinnon had given him the Bowie shirt - because _God_ (whoever he was) _Black, shut up about him already, will you?_ \- and James had given him a pair of jeans that no longer fit him and were ripped at the knees. Sirius happened to think that was the best look going since Marc Bolan, with his stolen nail polish, shirt a bit too tight and ripped jeans. But of course, his parents wouldn’t agree, and that would be a surefire way to get the clothes burnt and the Muggle poison bled out of him. So he’d kept them folded at the bottom of his trunk, taking them out from time to time just to look.

Without looking at Sirius, Regulus crossed to the doorway and slipped through. Walburga finally turned her gaze to Sirius, who wished for a moment that he could shrink into his books. She took two steps forwards, and then paused, nose turning up as if she were worried she might catch something from her firstborn son. After a second, grey eyes - Sirius’ eyes, Walburga’s eyes - boring into him, she pulled out her wand and levelled it at him. Sirius flinched so hard, expecting a hex, a curse, a jinx, _pain_ , that he fell from his chair and instinctively tried to scramble backwards.

Walburga scoffed and turned away. “Pathetic.”

Sirius stayed on the floor until her footsteps faded down the hallway. He stayed there until his ragged breathing had subsided back into the steady even breaths of someone trying to be silent in their own home. Once he was sure she had gone, Sirius righted his chair and slipped back into it. The books seemed even darker now, overflowing with all the bile and hatred that his own parents touted with vehemence. _I’m crying for Remus_ , Sirius thought, swiping angrily at hot tears with his wrist. _I’m crying for his fate, his pain, all of his hurt that I can do nothing about_.

 

Sirius had been banned from breakfast. He’d been sent away from dinner the night before early too, after charming the potatoes into a Gryffindor lion to roar in Regulus’ face. Sometimes Sirius wondered why he couldn’t just sit back and be quiet and let the hatred of the place wash over him, unaffected. But it just wasn’t in his nature to let something he was unhappy with go. He couldn’t be quiet in the face of the malice and hatred and casual ignorance that his parents spouted. Not when he had met so many Muggle-borns at school, like McKinnon or Evans or Robert from fourth year with the record player. Robert, who introduced him to all the most amazing music and showed him Bowie and Bolan and life beyond the pure-blood walls of Grimmauld Place.

It wasn’t in Sirius’ nature to take anything lying down, to hear the way Orion sniffed at the mention of a _disgusting half-blood_ gaining another position in the Ministry, of Walburga talking instead of how Cygnus’ company had the right idea, no half-bloods, no mudbloods, only respectable families, and how Bellatrix was expected to marry the Lestrange boy in the next year or so.

In the morning, banished from breakfast, Sirius instead set up a vigil at his bedroom window. Usually, if an owl were to arrive at breakfast, he would be able to see it arrive. And, as if on cue, as was everything James Potter did - wonderfully well-timed and thoughtful - his owl flew between the rooftops. Sirius threw open his window and held out his hand, owl treat he had stolen from the mantlepiece a few days ago in his hand.

Eglantine hooted genially - Merlin it even sounded like James, affable and kind and _loud_ \- and altered her course to instead swoop up to his window. She landed on his hand, then hopped down onto the sill to allow Sirius to untie the scroll attached to her leg with shaking fingers.

“Hold on a second, Eggy,” Sirius whispered, hurriedly opening the scroll.

_Sirius,_

_Mate, I wanted to try one last time to try and get to you. I told Eglantine to only give_ **_you_ ** _this letter, I don’t know if she will, though. I hope you’re okay. Mum says you can come and stay with us for a while at Christmas, whether_ **_they_ ** _let you or not. I don’t care if they’re your parents, they are horrible people and awful and you deserve better. If you can write back, just let me know you’re alright. I’ve convinced Mum we need a record player for the dorm, she says if I get Quidditch Captain this year, then she’ll buy one for us. Anyway, if you can write back, please do. Pete and I have been losing our minds without you or Rem. It’s coming up, you know. I’m going to send him something. If you want to send something back, feel free and I can include it. I really hope you’re alright, Sirius. Next summer we can figure something out._

_James_

Eglantine hooted again, impatiently holding her foot out and looking at him as if to say _well, are you going to, or not?_ Sirius tried to shush her and scrambled for a piece of parchment and a quill, narrowly avoiding spilling ink everywhere.

_Jamie,_

_Have to be quick. Send this to Rem with your package for me? Parents aren’t happy, but I don’t bloody care. Can’t wait to be back with you lot._

_Sirius_

Eglantine hooted again.

“Shhh, Eggy, give me a second!”

Sirius dropped to his knees, knowing exactly where the floorboards squeaked, and reached under his bed for the bundle he kept hidden there. Only one Chocolate Frog left, but he wanted Remus to have it. He found a piece of brown paper and hurriedly tied both the note and the Frog to Eglantine’s leg. She hooted loudly, a noise that Sirius was sure would carry through the house, and pecked his hand for another treat.

“I don’t have any more treats, Eggy-” Sirius heard footsteps up the stairs, fast and heavy. Eglantine hooted again- “Eggy! Go, to James, _please_!”

“Sirius Orion Black!” Walburga’s voice echoed in the corridor. Eglantine, finally spooked, flew off back towards Devon and James and everything Sirius wanted. A split second later, his bedroom door flew open and Walburga was there like a whirlwind, screaming like a banshee. Sirius threw himself over his desk, wand in one hand, and seized James’ letter in the other.

“ _Summa abscondum,_ ” Sirius whispered, tapping the parchment even as Walburga crossed the room. Thankfully, the charm the Marauders had been working on over the past few months did seem to take effect, and the parchment turned blank. Just in time as Walburga grabbed Sirius by the hair and pulled him bodily away from the desk. He was rapidly approaching her height, still growing - _one day_ , he thought, wistfully, viciously _, I’ll be stronger than her_ \- but Walburga held him so his toes barely scraped the ground. Instead, Sirius was forced to hold onto her arm to try and lessen the pain.

Walburga produced her wand and pointed it at the parchment, still holding Sirius at arm’s length by the hair. “What is this? Another letter from your filthy Gryffindor friends?”

“Get off.” Sirius pointed his toes to try and get some purchase, closing his eyes against the pain in his skull. “Let go of me!”

“I will not have anything from half-bloods or mudbloods or blood-traitors in this house, boy!” She gestured with her wand, then tapped the parchment. “ _Aparecium_.” Nothing. “ _Finite._ ” Nothing. Sirius tried to cling to the blooming happiness of their spell actually working. Walburga glowered and turned to Sirius, tightening the hand in his hair. “I know it’s a letter, boy. Drop the spell. Now.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. That’s a parchment,” Sirius choked out, gripping her arm to try and lessen the pressure.

“Liar!” She levelled her wand at him, the tip inches from his nose. Sirius shuddered and closed his eyes, but he wouldn’t give up his friends. “Don’t make me force it out of you, Sirius. Drop the spell.”

“It’s parchment, Mother!” Sirius’ voice broke over the phrase, feeling a chunk of roots ripping from his scalp.

Walburga screamed in frustration and dropped him. Sirius managed to land on his feet, and resisted pressing a hand to the fire flickering under his scalp. Any show of weakness to Walburga would be like a bullseye. “I don’t have time to deal with you today, boy. If I see you out of this room for the rest of the day, you will be punished.”

Sirius nodded, hands clenching at his sides with the urge to probe the tenderness of his scalp. He didn’t trust himself to answer without getting a slap or a _Crucio_ for good measure in return. Walburga stalked from the room, leaving the empty parchment of James’ letter on the desk. Sirius, once he had stopped shaking, stashed it in the bottom of his trunk along with his Bowie t-shirt.

 

In the end, he did get punished. Assuming Walburga wouldn’t be as cruel as to cut off his access to the bathroom, Sirius had ducked in there a few hours later for a drink of water and a cool compress for his head. Instead, Kreacher had accosted him and dragged him to Orion’s study. The _Diffindo_ cuts across his back and legs were still raw. In the privacy of his room, in the middle of the night, Sirius had tried to heal them, but his healing charms were woeful, and he couldn’t really see what he was doing. He was just thankful they weren’t bleeding through his clothes any longer.

It took a week for him to be invited back to dinner. Sirius thought it was ridiculous you had to be _invited_ to dinner in your own house, but here he was at the dinner table again, trying to convince his starving stomach he actually needed to eat if he were to last until the train back to Hogwarts. The cuts on his back rubbed painfully against the chair, but it was a pain Sirius was used to, and he bore it easily enough amongst the smell of roast venison that was just a little too bloody, the vegetables a little too peppery, a meal that lacked everything he wanted.

The room was tense, Regulus answering questions about his tutoring and his readiness to attend Hogwarts in September. Orion reiterated one too many times that Regulus would be at home amongst his peers in Slytherin, with pointed glances towards Sirius that needled all of his vulnerable spots. When the quiet descended, unlike the comfortable quiet of the Marauders at the Gryffindor table, it was icy cold. And it shattered a moment later with the banging of a door and muffled shouting.

“Walburga! Orion!” Sirius recognised the voice, some awful combination of his parents that sent his blood chilling.

Kreacher appeared at the dining room doorway, wringing his hands as if in penance for future acts. “Mistress! Master Cygnus and Mistress Druella are here and a-”

“Out of my way, elf.” Aunt Druella shoved Kreacher into the room and strode in behind him. Sirius and Regulus, as they had been taught, went very still and stared at their laps. “She’s done it! That filthy little traitor, she’s married him!”

Grimmauld Place exploded into action then, insults and curses that made Sirius’ ears burn as his parents stood and began speaking with his aunt and uncle. Somewhere, in the depths of his heart, locked away out of sight and reach, Sirius felt a nugget of hope. If Cousin Andy had escaped their clutches, and ran off with that Muggle-born Ted he’d seen her with at the end of the school year, then maybe that meant he would be able to get out too.

As the adults filed into the next room, Sirius slipped from his chair and made for the stairs.

“Oh no, you don’t,” Orion uttered, voice silky smooth, low and dangerous, as he grabbed Sirius by the shoulder, thumb sliding around the back of his neck to dig in between the tendons. “You’ll come with me, boy.”

Sirius stilled, every muscle in his body going tense, as Orion steered him into the tapestry room. As a child, he’d spent hours in there, tracing and chasing the branches of the tree, finding himself and Regulus there with glee every time. Now, he made a point to avoid it.

Orion set him right in front of the tapestry, where Andromeda sat between her sisters. His mother, aunt and uncle stood to the side, and Walburga cast him a poisonous glare as she raised her wand. Sirius tried not to flinch, despite the fact the wand wasn’t pointed at him. Orion felt the flinch and tightened his hand on Sirius’ shoulder, fingers biting, his signet ring cutting.

Mother and Aunt Druella raised their wands, pointed squarely at Cousin Andy’s face, smiling and pretty. The smell of burning tapestry smelled oddly like burning hair, burning plastic, burning skin, burning meat, burning hopes, ties, family. Family that meant nothing if _everything_ wasn’t perfect.

Orion’s hand tightened on his shoulder. Sirius bit his lip to stop crying out.

“If you aren’t careful, boy. That will be you.”

 

Of course, Regulus was sorted into Slytherin. As he walked away from the hat, he had cast a look towards the Gryffindor table that seemed like disdain on the surface, but Sirius saw the flare of fear there that he saw in the mirror sometimes. James clapped Sirius on the shoulder, Remus patted his hand reassuringly, and Peter made sure he got the extra cranberry sauce during the feast, but it still _hurt_.

Orion’s words echoed. He would be blasted off the tapestry if he carried on. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t just keep quiet, keep his head down and pretend that he was what they wanted. If he tried to have a conversation with Rosier or Mulciber or any of those people his parents wanted him to associate with, then he would doubtless get expelled for hexing their nose clean off.

In the Gryffindor dorms that night, Sirius curled up in his own bed. Instantly, both James and Remus knew there was something wrong. Sirius _never_ slept in his own bed if he could help it. Remus pulled open his drapes and James pulled him out by the hand.

“C’mon, mate.” James waved his wand and their bedding rearranged itself on the floor in the usual arrangement for a Marauder Camp-Out. Peter was already piling up Bertie’s Every Flavour Beans on one of the quilts.

As Remus flicked his wand to extinguish most of the candles, James pulled Sirius aside. James was so loud and brash right up until he wasn’t, until he was concerned for Sirius or reassuring Remus they were in fact friends, or helping Peter as he worried over his Transfiguration essay.

“They might not want you here. But I won’t let you pull away from me, from any of us. Okay?”

Sirius nodded, unsure if words would actually come if he tried. “Okay… okay. Thank you, Jamie.”

James just grinned, back to his brash, inane self, and clapped Sirius on the upper arm. “Of course, we’re Marauders, mate. We stick together, one for all, all for one!”

“That’s the Musketeers, James!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all your comments and kudos and reading along! I have made a 70s compliant playlist for these guys, if you want to have some appropriate music whilst you're reading, feel free to check it out! [Always in This Twilight on Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/1192704239/playlist/08bRhCQ3zXFKcSDa4s1dhZ?si=84ABK9dlQH6C9OmgYhL0Og)


	9. You're My Best Friend - Queen - 3rd Year

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this went up a bit late folks! I was away this weekend so couldn't write very much, but here we are now! Your comments and kudos and love make my day/week/month! And if you'd like, come say hi on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/jennandblitz)!

Sirius’ fourteenth birthday fell on a Saturday, and the Marauders viewed this as an entirely auspicious set of circumstances. The Prewett brothers were in their final year, and as the Marauders were taking over their mantle of School Pranksters - perhaps superseding them really - they decided to make a special effort in assisting in the party. The word had been spread around, and Saturday night found the Gryffindor common room fit to bursting with bodies from all Houses - there was a Slytherin or two, out of uniform, proving, despite James and Sirius’ insistence, that not _all_ the snakes were bad.

Even Frank Longbottom had given up trying to stop the party, instead confirming that the drinking absolutely _had_ to stay within the common room, and if anyone even _thought_ about starting anything, every single person in attendance would get detention and lose house points. Once he was sure everyone would behave, Frank had promptly cracked open a bottle of Firewhisky and was now somewhere out of sight, probably with Alice Fortescue.

Remus was sprawled on a sofa, a tumbler of Firewhisky precariously between his fingers. Of course, Sirius and James were the life of the party, currently orchestrating a round of Marauder-patented Magical Jousting. They were one team, Sirius on James’ shoulders, wand at the ready to attempt to Flipendo his opponent from his steed’s shoulders. James had resisted heavily at the term ‘steed’ but Sirius insisted it was his birthday, and it was the least James could do. James, of course, had agreed.

Peter, James and Remus had privately decided, after only knowing each other for two months, that Sirius’ birthday would be the biggest party every single year. The first year, after learning of his birthday only the day before, they had gathered all the sweets their parents had sent them - James sent a frantic owl to Mrs Potter and was rewarded with possibly the biggest sponge cake Remus had ever seen - and woke Sirius at dawn with cries of ‘Happy Birthday!’. Sirius was utterly bewildered - apparently, before Hogwarts his birthday was a reason for his parents to remind him of all the things he needed to be, and to be gifted some awful old heirloom. Remus thought it was a crime not to have even the slightest mention of chocolate and sweets on your birthday, and gave Sirius a bar of Honeydukes Finest with a shy smile that morning.

His thirteenth birthday was similar to his twelfth. Only two weeks before, Peter had accidentally discovered the entrance to the kitchens whilst trying to prove a point of how _stupid_ some of the Hogwarts paintings were. _“I’ll probably get my ear talked off by this bloody… I don’t know, this pear or something if I poke it in the wrong wa- Merlin!”_ And so, they woke Sirius at 12:01 to have a midnight feast and give presents - another bar of Honeydukes Finest from Remus, via his parents of course - and a smorgasbord of baked goods from Mrs Potter and Pettigrew.

But fourteen, now teenagers and third years and making a name for themselves after the first appearance of Magical Jousting last summer, and James’ imminent Captaincy of the Quidditch team, meant that Sirius’ Saturday birthday was a party.

Remus watched as, of course, James and Sirius won that round, Sirius with a spectacular Flipendo to Marlene McKinnon, who was on Kingsley Shacklebolt’s shoulders until she was crumpled on the floor with him. Sirius and James were laughing, already flush with whisky and celebrations. After a moment, Sirius crossed to McKinnon and held a hand out to her, muttering words of commiseration that Remus couldn’t hear over the music. Marlene took his hand and pulled him down into the pile of limbs, laughing raucously.

The wolf rumbled, taking Remus by surprise, making him sit up and lean forward and tighten his fingers around his Firewhisky.

_Pack!_ The wolf growled, roaring under Remus’ collarbones for the idea of Sirius tangled up with other people, James now joining in to the pile to tickle Marlene in recompense. _Mine._ Then Peter was there and holding a hand to Kingsley to pull him up but he tumbled down into the pile too, and the Prewett twins join in, spraying some magical approximation of Muggle silly string over everyone.

_My pack. Mine._ The wolf hissed and Remus tried to tamp it down into submission. The Full was a week away and he could feel the tides in his blood, but every moon was getting worse. Remus’ senses flared and he could smell Sirius and James and Peter and everyone else in the pile and he wanted to _scream_.

“Hello Remus.”

Remus jumped a mile and turned to see Lily Evans settling on the sofa next to him, a glass of something in her hand, Gryffindor scarf around her neck. She smiled nicely and glanced over to where Remus’ eyes kept sliding back to the group on the floor.

“Oh, hello Eva- uh, Lily.” Remus took a sip of his Firewhisky. He really did like Evans, she was fun and smart and didn’t treat him strangely for the knick over his top lip or the scars across his knuckles that he knew she had seen before. It was just that when the wolf was under his skin, roaring like it was now to just go and pull everyone off of Sirius and James and Peter, he didn’t want to be near anyone.

Lily was watching the commotion, tipping her glass towards them. “Sometimes I have to stop and remember you are actually _friends_ with them, you know, Remus.”

Remus didn’t look away from where the group were now clambering back to their feet. He could smell James’ sweat, the sweetness of the spiked pumpkin juice Peter was holding, Sirius’ rosemary shampoo. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Lily raised her eyebrow at Remus’ periphery. “Just that- um, you know… you just don’t seem to fit them, you know?”

Remus took a long drink of his Firewhisky and dragged his eyes away from his friends - _pack,_ the wolf snarled - to look at Lily. She was watching him, a strange look in her eye and the thought occurred to Remus if she had ever seen him properly near the full. It was still a week away but the common room was so full, and his friends were all piled together with other people.

“They’re my friends, we don’t have to be the same people to get along you know?” Remus took another sip of his whisky.

Lily turned her glass nervously in her hands, seeming to shrink under Remus’ amber gaze. _Away from my pack_ , the wolf snarled, even though Remus quite liked Lily. But her distaste for Sirius and James was so obvious that it rubbed him the wrong way. She clearly didn’t see them as Remus saw them, kind and caring and _accepting_. True, they were idiots most of the time, and quite often bullies, but they were wonderful to Remus, and that was the only thing he really cared about.

“Yes, I suppose… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that, I don’t think-”

Remus let out a short sigh and drained the last of his glass. Setting it down heavier than intended, Remus stood up and strode over to where James and Sirius were gearing up for the next round after winner stays on.

As he approached, Sirius grinned and waved him over, throwing an arm around his waist as he stepped up to them. James scruffed a hand through Remus’ hair and Peter pressed a glass of spiked juice into his hand.

“Alright, Rem?” Sirius hummed, pleasantly fuzzy from Firewhisky.

“Were you talking to Evans then, Rem?” James said, lifting onto his toes to peer over the crowd. “Did she say anything about me? Anything about Quidditch or hair or being awful at Potions?”

Remus just chuckled and pushed James’ shoulder. “No mate, not at all I’m afraid. Just expressing her surprise I’m friends with you.”

Sirius snorted and cast a dirty look through the crowd, drawing his arm from around Remus to push up his sleeves. Remus tried not to think about how he would’ve preferred Sirius to stay against him. “Pfft, I have no idea why you like a swot like her, Jamie.”

“Because she’s wonderful, she’s smart, she’s feisty, she’s-”

Peter nudged Sirius in the side as James waxed lyrical about the object of his affections. “You’ve started him off now mate.”

Remus shoved James’ shoulder again. “Yeah, well, she seemed to think I was too good for you, which is just utter Hippogriff shit. Sooo, to prove her wrong, Magical Jousting doubles?”

That seemed to rouse James from his Evans-induced ramblings, and he grinned. “Ahhh, Rem, our team is reunited!” James waved his hands to assemble the opposing team, the two Prewett’s as steeds, and Robert as one jouster and a sixth-year girl Remus thought might be called Anastasia as the other.

With Peter on his shoulders, arm linked with Sirius’ like Remus’ was linked with James’, Remus was laughing so much he could barely stand. But the Marauders triumphed, and of course they won the round and stood victorious over the sprawling heap of limbs that was the other team.

Remus threw his arms around Sirius and Peter, James at the other side to box them all in and whooped in victory. Then someone threw on _Aladdin Sane_ and Sirius whooped and threw up his arms and dragged the three of them into dancing.

Remus was pleasantly drunk, tipsy and for once not worrying about the hangover or tomorrow or that Astronomy essay due on Tuesday, because he had his three best friends and they had him. Even the wolf seemed placid. Sure, it was growling whenever someone danced too close to the other Marauders, or when Lily caught his eye across the common room it snarled and pawed and Remus wanted to shout - _how dare you say we don’t fit when these three fit better than anything else I've ever known? How can we not fit when they see me like no others?_

Later, well into the night, the depths of wintry blackness, Frank finally put his foot down and everyone filtered back to their own common rooms and dorms as the sixth and seventh years flicked a few careless cleaning charms at the mess until deciding the house elves could deal with it overnight. Remus sprawled on his bed, pyjamas pulled on with drunken acuity.

James and Pete had begun some kind of toothpaste fight that started with a well placed daub, and judging from previous experiences, would end up with being hosed down in the showers, so Remus had bowed out. After a particular shriek, Sirius ducked into their dorm room and shut the door behind him.

“Merlin, it's like a war zone in there Rem!”

Remus chuckled, drunk and sleepy, as Sirius stripped off, always unabashed. “And you're bowing out?”

“Listen Rem,” Sirius said, looking stern as he pulled on his pyjama bottoms and it never quite occurred to Remus he should’ve looked away. “Last time this happened the toothpaste reacted to my hair potion and turned it green, remember?”

Sirius sat heavily on the edge of Remus’ bed as Remus stifled a chuckle into his arm. He did remember that time, Sirius had nearly rioted because his hair and his eyes were Slytherin colours and _that would not do_.

“Seems a wise choice, then doesn't it?” Remus said from the pillow of his arms.

Sirius flopped dramatically down onto Remus’ bed and wiggled up until his head was on the pillow. Remus opened a bleary eye to see Sirius peering at him. Maybe he should've moved back or rolled over or cracked a joke but Remus slung an arm around his middle instead. The moon was only a week away and he was running hot and Sirius was like midwinter, always cooling despite his hotheadedness.

Sirius grinned that wide-open Gryffindor grin only the Marauders saw. “I had a good birthday. Thank you guys for the party and the sweets and cake.”

“For you Sirius, of course.” Remus muttered, hearing Sirius’ heartbeat hammering in his chest, tasting the alcohol from his sweat in the air, smelling his shampoo.

“Tell anyone how soppy that sounded though, and I'll have to kill you, wolf or not.” Sirius huffed out on a laugh, resting his head on Remus’ shoulder.

Remus laughed, and the wolf rumbled like a pup was nipping at its ankles, hiding contentment.

_Pack! Mine, protect, love. Home, home, home._

 

“Remus?”

“Hm? Oh, sorry, sorry!”

In truth, Remus wasn't entirely sure how he had gotten here. If you had asked him who would be in Puddifoot’s with a girl on the Hogsmeade trip before Christmas, he would've bet his entire Honeydukes stash on it being Sirius. Sirius who seemed to smile nicely at girls and send them giggling whenever he was called on for demonstrations in class (infuriating McGonagall no end when he actually succeeded despite not paying attention) but Sirius had shrugged off any requests for a date with the awful laugh he was affecting at the moment.

Regardless of Sirius’ laugh this month, Remus _really_ wasn't expecting to end up on a double date with Pete and two Hufflepuffs. He’d sort of been strong-armed into it, too. Sophia had accosted him after their Defence study group in the library, and he'd been too distracted by the bone-deep tired of his post moon aches and the wonderful residual warmth that came with his three friends crowding around his bed in the Hospital Wing the following morning to realise what he was saying. By the time Remus realised he had he'd agreed to a _date_ Sophia’s friend Jacqui had been asked out by Pete ( _Who knew he had it in him?!_ James had yelped when he'd found out) and they had agreed to a _double_ date.

“What you thinking about Rem?” Pete asked before he took a ridiculously large bite of his scone. Thankfully the Hogsmeade visit - and their date, although that sounded so strange to say - had coincided nicely with the new moon, so Remus wasn't so ravenous as to disgust the girls, or so tetchy he would offend one of them, or so tired he would fall asleep right into the earl grey. In reality, Remus was thinking how Pete couldn't possibly prefer being here, surrounded by lace and pink and marshmallows, when their two best friends were stocking up in Zonko’s then trying (and failing) to charm Rosmerta into giving them Firewhisky laced hot chocolate.

“Oh, nothing really. Sorry, just a little tired.”

Sophia smiled over the table at him and Remus had to employ his considerable self control not to cringe. “You want to share this last scone with me, Remus?”

Ugh, Remus knew he had to be missing something. From what he understood from his literature and overheard conversations in the common room, a girl smiling at him like that and twirling a curl of her hair around her finger like that, not to mention the fact she had actually _asked_ him on a date, meant that she actually liked him. And objectively, Sophia was quite pretty, dark hair, blue eyes, with sharp cheekbones that would look at home on the cover of Witch Weekly. But Remus didn't _care_.

“Sure, I don't mind.”

Sophia sort of huffed, but cut the scone tidily in half anyway. Remus knew that Pete and Jacqui (who were hitting it off, how unfair!) couldn't hear Sophia’s heartbeat, the steady thrum of it, the smell of her nerves under the scent of Puddifoot's’ and her perfume. He supposed the idea of her being nervous should make him pleased or excited, that she was invested in this conversation in a way he certainly wasn’t, but it didn’t.

Remus cleared his throat, wondering what might be a good topic for conversation. James (who to Remus’ knowledge hadn't ever been on a date) said that Defence essays and the Goblin Riots of 1852 were strictly off topic. But with the Marauders, they talked about pranks, or the newest glam rock record, or the last moon, or that spell James was creating to try and locomote the suits of armour, or everything and nothing. Remus never had to think about what he needed to say because Sirius, James and Peter always seemed to know exactly what to say next.

Thankfully, Remus was saved from the conundrum as he swallowed the last mouthful of his scone by a whirlwind of black hair and inane grins.

“Hello hello everybody. Jacqui, Sophia, Pete, Rem. How are we? Boris from Zonko’s was asking after you gentlemen, said to pop by later to stock up on things, he has some fantastic joke quills you would love, Rem. Ooh, are those scones? I'll have a bit if you don't mind, Petey boy. Mmm, Merlin they are good aren't they?” James grinned as the seat he was cannibalising from a nearby table scraped over the tiled floor. The noise rang through Remus like a bell but he couldn't be happier to see his friends. Sirius leant over and helped himself to a gulp of Remus’ tea as James carried on speaking. “The Three Broomsticks was boring, Sirius’ girlfriend-” he nodded sagely at the girls- “Madame Rosmerta of course, betrayed our love and trust and refused to give us Firewhisky, so here we are!”

“I'm sorry,” Sophia said, pulling her plate, with the last few mouthfuls of her scone on it, closer to her, “who are you?”

James sputtered. “Who are we? _Who_ are _we?!_ ”

Even Sirius, who usually looked as if he had better places to be most of the time, looked offended. “Who are we? The Marauders! Two quarters-” Remus mentally interjected with _one half_ \- “of the best pranking, and most good looking, team Hogwarts has ever seen!”

“Merlin…” Remus hissed into his teacup. Although, he had to admit, this date was already much more fun with James and Sirius here.

“James Fleamont Potter-”

\- “and Sirius Orion Black at your service!”

“Except not really at your service, sorry. My heart belongs to another!” James put a hand over his heart and looked into the wistful middle distance as if a certain redhead might appear there.

Sirius just shrugged and helped himself to another gulp of Remus’ tea. Remus was pretty sure Sirius didn't take his tea like that, but he was drinking it anyway. The wolf seemed rather pleased that the rest of his pack had appeared and so Remus only smiled as he nudged his chair a little closer to Peter’s to allow Sirius and James space at the table.

“Don't you two have more dungbombs to buy or something?” Peter hissed, obviously upset by the intrusion of his two friends on his otherwise successful half of the date.

“Nope! Already got twenty of your finest Rotten Roger dungbombs right here mate!” James’ voice boomed like only his could, and it took but a second for Madam Puddifoot to bustle over.

“Potter! Black! Lupin! Pettigrew! I'll have none of your dungbombs in here, I've heard enough about your escapades from Mr Bertram at Zonko’s, away you go!”

“James!” Peter hissed as he gathered up his cloak and shot a placating look at Jacqui, who seemed thoroughly put out. But Madam Puddifoot wouldn’t take any explanations, and ushered the six teens out of the cafe and into the snowy street. Remus hid a smile as he finished the rest of his tea and shrugged on his own cloak, before he glanced up to see Sophia looking at him expectantly, waiting for a placating look or an apology offered on behalf of the two intruding pranksters.

But Remus could offer no such thing.

As Jacqui said goodbye to Peter outside Puddifoot’s - with a murmur of _leave your friends out of it next time_ that only Remus heard with the wolf’s hearing - Remus just smiled awkwardly at Sophia and stood between James and Sirius. He really must be missing something important, Remus thought as he watched Peter smile kindly at Jacqui and then felt _nothing_ when he looked at Sophia. It was a shame - she was really quite pretty.

A brief snowball fight in the Hogsmeade High Street ensued to try and lift Pete’s sour spirits - really, a handful of snow down the back of his jumper would do quite the opposite - but that was quickly broken apart by a worker from Honeydukes. Remus fell into line quicker than James or Sirius, and threatened the other two that if they got banned from Honeydukes, he would kill them, wolf or not.

They ended up in the Three Broomsticks to give charming Rosmerta for laced hot chocolate another try.

“She likes you Remus, you’ve got a really innocent face. And Pete, you remind her of her little brother don’t you? He’s blonde!” James nattered as he lead them to a booth and sat down with a flourish.

“He’s also 20 stone!” Peter sputtered.

Sirius laughed his awful laugh of the month. “C’mon Rem-” he nudged Remus in the side and got to his feet- “you and I can go and order, we’re easily her favourites.”

Remus followed Sirius through the tables of the Three Broomsticks, trying to breathe deeply and not get overwhelmed by the cacophony of sights and sounds and smells, and emerged at the bar next to his already smiling friend.

Leaning his hip against the bar, Remus surveyed the already fit-to-burst pub, amber eyes scanning all through the crowds. He stopped at a face he hadn’t seen before - dark hair, brown eyes, a wry smile from the other side of the bar. The boy couldn’t have been much older than Remus, but as he smiled at Remus, Remus felt barely six inches tall. He managed to muster a smile back, running a hand self-consciously through his hair. His stomach flipped, like it did on the eve of the full moon, sent him feeling on edge for a moment.

“Oi, you even listening Rem?” Sirius said, bumping into him with his hip.

Remus blinked and then the boy across the bar had moved. He smiled at Sirius - who was rapidly catching up to him in height, all pale lean limbs, the way his dark hair fell in teased waves only adding a misleading inch or so to his height - and shook his head. “Yeah, sorry. Zoned out a bit there.”

Sirius just shrugged and slid two hot chocolates along the bar for him to carry. Remus took them both, casting around for another glimpse of that boy, but didn’t see him as he weaved between the tables and sat down with his three best friends. The wolf huffed happily, wound up with his pack, but Remus was intrigued and more than slightly distracted.

“Oh! If I’m not mistaken, there is a hint of Firewhisky in this after all!” James said, smacking his lips after a sip of his hot chocolate. “Our Rosmerta came through for us in the end!”

Remus smiled, distracted still, crammed into the booth with his friends but looking for that smile. Perhaps, it dawned on him back at Hogwarts hours later, it wasn’t that he was missing something important, but rather that his important thing looked a little different to anyone else's.


	10. Fill Your Heart - David Bowie - 3rd Year

Another full moon.

Sirius sat on the windowsill of their dorm room, book splayed out across his thighs. He tried to be productive when he was staying up like this, his moonlight vigils where sleep evaded him in lieu of lying awake, ears straining for the sounds of howls. He’d long ago given up trying to sleep on Moon Nights, knowing that for some reason his brain wouldn’t let him shut off until he knew Remus was safe. His usual plan was either take an Energy-Up Potion if he _had_ to go to classes - Sirius was actually _enjoying_ his elective classes so far this year - or if it was something boring like History of Magic, then he would just skip and sleep in the morning. Very occasionally, Sirius could convince Remus to come back to sleep at lunchtime, and that was nearly almost always his favourite time of month.

But still, tonight, he was sat at the windowsill, with a book meant for someone at least twice his age open on his lap. He and Peter had first thought of the idea. They had been walking from Care of Magical Creatures together, meeting James and Remus in Transfiguration when McGonagall had leapt from her desk as a cat and landed as a human. Sirius would remember that moment for the rest of his life - looking over at Peter and seeing the same wide-eyed look of realisation on his face that he felt on his own. The brief paragraph on werewolves in their magical creatures text had mentioned they are usually amongst other wolves, _were-_ or not, during the full moon, because they weren’t hostile to other creatures. So that night, Sirius slipped into James’ bed, wound an arm around his best mate’s waist and whispered _I know how to help Rem._

_It’s dangerous,_ James had whispered back. _But for Rem? Of course_.

The books Sirius had found in the library - after much trudging around and grumbling as to why they were sorted this way and not alphabetically or by subject matter or simply a group of _Sirius-friendly_ books - weren’t all that specific. Clearly Animagus transformations were to be taught from one person to another, studied with innate knowledge and guided by another.

But the Marauders didn’t have that. If Sirius strolled up to Minnie one day and said _Morning, Minnie dearest, I want to become an Animagus to help my werewolf friend - oh we weren’t meant to know he’s a werewolf? Well, the question still stands!_ he would get detention for months! So they would have to piece it together, figure things out themselves. It might take a while, but it would be worth it to be able to help Remus. To be able to do anything that wasn’t just sitting at the windowsill on Moon Nights, waiting to see if his friend made it out or not.

“Sirius?” James’ voice was sleepy, floating up from his bed, and Sirius looked over to see him lifting his head from his pillow, hair even more messy than usual. “Everything alright?”

Sirius shrugged one shoulder. “Just can’t sleep.”

James sat up, squinting in the moonlight. “He’ll be fine.”

“I know- I just… can’t switch off without knowing that he _is_ fine.” Sirius slid from the windowsill, closing his book. He hadn’t looked at it properly in the last two hours anyway. “I think I’ll go down to the common room - sorry if I woke you, Jamie.”

James frowned and grabbed Sirius’ wrist as he walked between their beds. “Don’t go down there. If- If you hear something, come get me and we can go down in the Cloak, okay? Don’t go down there yourself.”

“Yeah, I won’t,” Sirius agreed on a whisper. James peered at him for a moment longer before releasing his grip and almost immediately sinking back to sleep. Sirius watched him, envious of how quickly he could slip off the shackles of worry, before he padded out of the dorm room, grabbing his robes on the way.

Giving up all pretence of sleep, Sirius slipped into the bathroom and got ready for the day, trying to stay as quiet as possible and pretending it wasn’t so he could listen for any howls. Sirius took a moment in the mirror too, brushing his hair and casting a quick spell he’d seen McKinnon cast to try and lessen some of that darkness beneath his eyes - just because he was tired didn’t mean he had to look like Merlin’s left bollock.

Padding down the stairs in the early morning always brought Sirius back to Grimmauld Place, trying to sneak down to the kitchens to steal a little bit of food, or an owl treat, or trying to retrieve his Gryffindor scarf from wherever Kreacher kept hiding it. Sirius flinched when the floorboards creaked beneath his feet - he hadn’t learnt the Gryffindor stairs like he knew every inch of flooring at Grimmauld - but on a swift exhale, he remembered he didn’t need to hide here. Shaking off the lingering fear, Sirius stepped into the common room, expecting to find it empty, heading for the window seat where he could watch the Whomping Willow.

Instead, Sirius found his window seat already occupied by Robert Sinclair, the Muggle with the record player. He and Sirius had become quite good friends over the past two years, bonding over the records spinning between them, Bowie, T-Rex, Slade, Sweet, everything Sirius didn’t even know existed before Hogwarts. As Sirius crossed over to Robert, past the sofa in front of the fire, soft music hit his ears. Sirius realised he must’ve been using some kind of silencing charm around his study area to avoid disturbing other students. He quickly pegged the music as _Aladdin Sane_ , and smiled softly as the tones of _Lady Grinning Soul_ floated into the air. _Aladdin Sane_ was a favourite, the most wonderful album that spoke to Sirius’ soul, swirled into his veins and calmed him a little despite the fullness of the moon outside, the incessant humming worry for Remus.

“Hi Sirius. You’re up late,” Robert hummed without lifting his eyes from the parchment in his lap.

Sirius eased himself onto the other end of the window seat, tucked his legs up and cast a furtive glance out to the moonlit night. The moon was setting, at long last, the sunrise starting to stain the sky pink to the east. “It’s 4am, Robert, rather more morning than evening, I’d think.” He peered over Robert’s papers, not envying the sixth year for his workload. “You’ve been up all night?”

Robert stilled and looked up. “It’s 4am? … Shit. Last I looked it was 1. _Shit._ ”

Sirius laughed and shoved at Robert’s thigh with his foot like he would with James or Remus or Peter, forgetting for the moment that the other boy wasn’t so used to Sirius being overly touchy. “Go to bed, Rob. You can get a couple of hours, can’t you?”

Robert laughed and set his quill down to grab Sirius’ foot, pressing his thumb into the ticklish place there. “You try being a sixth year, kiddo! I’ve got like three essays to finish.”

“Oi!” Sirius pulled his foot back and tucked it under his body, laughing heartily before he felt a strange swath of guilt wash over him - he shouldn’t be having fun when Remus was tearing himself apart down at the Shrieking Shack. He frowned a little, trying to reconcile the feeling. He wanted to take whatever relief from the Moon Nights he could, feeling like he was right in the Shack with Remus most of the time. Sirius was torn between wanting to run down to Remus and being there with him, and running away to try and preserve some of his own soul.

Usually, Sirius stayed in the dorm room by himself on Moon Nights, waiting for Remus, and it seemed almost strange to see someone else in the moonlight. But Robert reminded him of Remus in some ways too. Brown hair, a little longer than Remus’, not as curly either. His eyes weren’t Remus’ though, a deep green instead of the startling amber of Remus’ eyes. But the moonlight striped across Robert’s face made Sirius think of Remus, and his heart _ached_.

“Hey…” Robert startled him out of his reverie with a hand on his shoulder. “You alright, kid?”

Sirius nearly keeled over with the urge to lean his head into Robert’s touch. Where had that come from? Instead, he just smiled, shaking his head softly. “Yeah, fine. Sorry, just a little distracted, I guess.”

Robert smiled right back and patted Sirius’ shoulder a little. His thumb was rubbing a little circle on Sirius’ shoulder that probably felt more calming than he reasoned it should. “So that’s why you’re down here listening to Bowie with me instead of sleeping?”

“Something like that,” Sirius breathed, smiling.

Robert’s hand slid from his shoulder, down to squeeze his upper arm, then went back to his work. Did Sirius imagine that all? The way Robert looked at him, _smiled_ at him, the way Sirius felt smiling back. Sirius frowned softly, turning to look back out of the window as he felt his whole body tugging towards the moon. Was this what Remus felt, the pull towards the moon?

“Okay,” Robert said, waving his wand to pack his papers and books up. “I’m going to see if I can sleep now before I end up falling asleep in Runes. Put that back in the sleeve when you’re done, will you?”

Sirius just nodded, heart pounding in his throat, feeling unable to even tear his eyes away from the Whomping Willow. “Alright… Yeah, I will.” Sirius heard Robert’s footsteps climbing the stairs, and sighed softly, still watching the moonlight slowly sinking away, replaced by the dawn.

It was only when the moon set properly and the sun started rising that Sirius sat back. The record had long since lapsed into white noise, but he hadn’t noticed. Sirius stretched a little, arms over his head, toes pointed, before he slid off the window seat and slid _Aladdin Sane_ back into its sleeve.

He was one of the first ones down at breakfast, intending to eat as quickly as possible then go to the Hospital Wing and wait for Madam Pomfrey to finally permit him to see Remus. As Sirius stepped into the Great Hall, he ran smack into another bundle of black hair, but green robes.

“Siri... Hi.”

“Reg.” Sirius scrubbed a hand through his hair, glancing around to make sure that, by some fluke, James or Peter or Remus wasn’t already sat at the Gryffindor table.

“How- how are you?” Regulus’ robes looked startlingly green, so green, not Gryffindor red, just… just another thing between them now.

“Fine… how are the dungeons?” Sirius crossed his arms over his chest, thinking of summer, the last bastion of their brotherhood, the dregs of conversation before Walburga stepped between them, before the Sorting Hat landed on Regulus’ head and boomed _Slytherin_.

Regulus shrugged one shoulder. “Don’t be like that Siri… Our whole family is in Slytherin, I feel at home there.”

“You do? Well I’m glad,” Sirius practically spat, stepping past towards his table, towards lions and red and gold. He wished he could just throw an arm around his brother’s shoulders like he did to James or Remus or Peter, wished he could scrub a hand through his head and say _we’re alright, Reggie._ But there was something in Regulus’ eyes, a stoney, Slytherin, dungeon look that stopped him. Orion’s eyes, framed by Slytherin green and Black-black hair.

“Siri…”

Sirius squared his shoulders and strode over to the Gryffindor table. James and Peter were probably still asleep, and hopefully Remus was also asleep in the Hospital Wing. Sirius assembled himself a bacon, sausage and fried egg toast sandwich, feeling the tension shooting across his shoulders. He wouldn’t be able to breathe until he’d seen Remus was alright. He inhaled his own sandwich, then quickly made a bacon sandwich, wrapping it in a napkin.

The doors to the Hospital wing always seemed imposing, and every time Sirius came to them, he saw visions of Remus, blood-covered and pallid, laying on a bed within. He eased open the door and stepped through, eyes scanning for Remus’ usual corner, curtains drawn. They were there, white curtains. After a moment, Madam Pomfrey spotted him and strode over.

“Mr Black… here for Mr Lupin I imagine?”

“Yes ma’am.” Sirius ducked his head, trying to be on his best behaviour. Pomfrey was one of the only staff members he would suck up to - anything to get him closer to Remus when he needed him. “If he’s sleeping I won’t wake him, just want to be there when he does…”

Madam Pomfrey pursed her lips. “Very well. Quietly then.”

Sirius just nodded, going quickly to Remus’ curtained off area and slipping behind the white drapes. _Merlin_ , Remus always looked awful right after the moon, so pale he was almost grey, none of that sunny warmth to his skin that Sirius was used to seeing. Something about his eyes being closed too, not the soft fluttering of dreaming and sleeping that Sirius saw when they curled up together, but the still of near-unconsciousness that made Sirius want to shout for Pomfrey, to make her make him better.

Instead, Sirius set the bacon sandwich on the tray already to Remus’ side, the stasis charm already there protecting a hot chocolate from Madame Pomfrey, and pulled up a chair. He folded his arms on the edge of the bed and set his chin there, watching Remus, waiting for him to wake.

The day before the full moon, Remus had been in one of his usual moods. The previous night, Sirius had been uncharacteristically sleepy - perhaps trying to recapture a score of Flitterby moths during Care of Magical Creatures had left him drained - and intended to get into his own bed, but Remus had caught his wrist as Sirius eased past him.

“Come read with me, Sirius,” he had whispered, but it wasn’t a question, more like an order.

Sirius had acquiesced, because he couldn’t say no to Remus, and slid into his bed, pressed his cold feet to Remus’ warm calves. Remus had hummed some kind of grumble but opened the book they were reading. Sirius drifted to sleep rather quickly to Remus’ raspy voice close to his ear, hoarse with the nearness of the moon. When he’d woken a few hours later, Remus’ arm around his middle, Remus’ face against the nape of his neck, Remus’ chest rumbling against his back, he’d felt - inexplicably - terrified and safe all at once. Sirius had tried to shift Remus’ arm from around him, intending to move to his own bed - Remus never slept well before the moon, and having Sirius’ cold feet against him probably wouldn’t have helped.

But Remus didn’t let him move, just huffed a sharp inhale against his hair. “Don’t move,” he’d said in a voice that sounded more wolf than human, more growl than whisper, and tightened the arm around his waist. Remus’ teeth grazed the nape of his neck, his hairline, as he spoke. Sirius shivered anew and it was nothing to do with the temperature change. “Stay, Sirius.” The arm around his waist was biting, fingers slipping into the spaces between ribs, firm, unyielding. Then, a little pause, and softer, softer- _“Please.”_

In the Hospital Wing, Sirius blinked a little, feeling Remus come back to waking next to him. The hand next to his head turned to tangle fingers through his hair.

“Sirius?” The same voice, softer, softer, not a growl, just the hoarse after-burn of the moon.

“I’m here, Rem. Need me to get Pomfrey?” Sirius turned his head to peer up at Remus, not wanting to dislodge the fingers from his hair, wondering if it comforted Remus as much as it comforted him.

Remus’ next inhale hissed through his teeth, a rare moment of pain flitting across his face. “Please.”

Sirius slid from his seat in an instant, missing the fingers in his hair, the warm closeness of Remus, and crossed to the curtains. He must’ve looked a little worried, because as soon as Madam Pomfrey saw him, she bustled over.

“Give us a moment, Mr Black. I’ll give Mr Lupin his migraine medication then you can come back in.”

Sirius would’ve smiled if he wasn’t so concerned. It was sweet that Pomfrey kept up the pretence, but Sirius wondered if she knew that _he_ knew. It would be easy enough to explain away - if he woke and Remus wasn’t there, he assumed he would be in the Hospital Wing with a _migraine_ \- but Pomfrey didn’t ask. Sirius paced the length of the Hospital Wing as he waited.

If Remus had let that flicker of pain show on his features, if he’d asked for Pomfrey, if Pomfrey had came over as quickly as she did, Sirius knew that meant it was bad. Remus was awake, he was talking, he didn’t look _awfully_ pale. But still. The idea of him hurting made Sirius want to tear the whole room apart.

At length, Pomfrey drew back the white curtains and nodded to Sirius. “He’s awake, Mr Black. But nothing taxing, you hear?”

“Yes ma’am,” Sirius said as he ducked through the curtains.

Remus’ chuckle sounded grating. “Look at you being polite.”

Sirius slid into the chair at the beside with a smile that he hoped didn’t look as false as it felt. “If I wasn’t nice, she wouldn’t let me see you, would she?”

“You got me there,” Remus admitted. He tilted his head after a moment, and Sirius wondered if he imagined the way his friend scented the air. “You look tired.”

Sirius laughed and laid his head on the pillow of his arms again. “Says you. You’re the one up all night.”

Remus’ fingers found his hair again too. “But you are too, aren’t you? Did you sleep even a little?”

Sirius shook his head in lieu of an answer. “There room for me up there?” He wiggled a little, feeling almost desperate for the way his and Remus’ bodies slotted together in their shared Moon Night tiredness. It had only started this year, Sirius crawling into the hospital bed next to Remus, tangling their legs, palm rubbing soothing circles over Remus’ forearm.

Remus bit his lip. “Probably not a good idea…” Off of what must’ve been a concerned expression on Sirius’ face, Remus glanced at the bedspread. “The wolf was… angrier than usual last night, for some reason.” After another moment, longer, stretching out between them, Remus pulled at the collar of his pyjama shirt to show the tail of a red, angry looking cut.

Sirius inhaled sharply. “Rem…”

“It’s okay, Sirius. It’s fine…” Remus bit his lip, those same teeth that were bared against Sirius’ neck in the nighttime darkness. Sirius shivered. “I’m sorry, for yesterday… you know- you know how I get before the moon.” Remus huffed, touched his fingers to a whirl of hair next to Sirius’ temple. “Did I hurt you?”

Sirius laughed and tilted his head into Remus’ hand, marvelling at the comfort of his touch. Remus scented the air again, amber eyes flashing, a physical tic that Sirius was beginning to find strangely endearing. “No, you didn’t Rem. Don’t worry about it. I know what the wolf is like.”

Remus’ face softened infinitely. “Thank you.”

 

For once, Sirius was looking forward to Christmas.

The full moon was nowhere near Christmas itself, and Mrs Potter had invited all of the Marauders to the Potters’ for the holiday. Sirius strongly suspected James had bugged his mother about it - because James was terribly easy to read and his face darkened every time any of them mentioned being separate for the holidays - but he didn’t care anyway. After James had presented them with the news, Sirius had written a letter back home - his first in two and a half years.

_Mother and Father,_

_I am staying at Hogwarts for the Christmas break. It will better assist my studies._

_Sirius O. Black_.

He had been talked away from adding something snarky like _I’m sure the place will be utterly boring without me,_ or _you won’t miss me_ , James hovering at his elbow. He had used Eggy to deliver the letter, seeing as he didn’t have his own owl at school, and she had come back looking rather flustered, much to James’ chagrin. Eggy had come back without a response, and Sirius wasn’t sure if he was relieved or nervous.

The train back to King’s Cross, Sirius felt strange. He felt light and heavy all at once, unsure of what to expect, how to act now Grimmauld Place wasn’t looming on the horizon. He didn’t respond to every barb with a Stinging Hex, or shrug off James’ arm around his shoulder with a sneer, or rebuke Pete’s offer of a pumpkin pasty with a punch to the arm instead. Their usual compartment was filled with laughter and jokes, James transfiguring a few sweets wrappers into tinsel, and Sirius found that he was _smiling_. Remus and Peter were going to stay at the Potters’ for a few days only, spending Christmas Day itself with their own families - understandably - and Sirius was just excited to be around his friends instead of back at grey old Grimmauld Place.

At the station, the Marauders left the train as one, Sirius stooping a little to hide behind James and Remus, because _ha_ , he was only an inch shorter than James, and two or three shorter than Remus now. Sirius watched, bile in his throat, heart hammering just beneath its bubbling surface, as Regulus crossed the Platform to Walburga. The woman nodded curtly at her son, waved her wand, and held her arm out to Apparate them both out of the station. Sirius felt the weight of the world leave his shoulders.

Mr and Mrs Potter waited for them, smiling. Sirius had met them before, a brief wave to them before he hurried off to Walburga at the end of every term, but hadn’t ever spoken to them. Fleamont Potter was the spitting image of how James would look in forty years, all wild salt and pepper hair and a wide open, mischievous grin. Euphemia Potter had the same gentle pitch of her eyebrows that James did whenever he was concerned about something. She looked _motherly_.

Euphemia embraced James first, who hugged back with the same overflowing affection that he hugged Sirius back with, then Euphemia smiled at Sirius.

“Hello Sirius. It’s good to meet you properly at last.” Her voice was soft and affectionate too, none of the sharp clipped speech of his own mother. Warm brown eyes not cold, cold grey ones.

“You too Mrs Potter,” Sirius stuttered back, quite frankly terrified in the face of the unknown.

“Oh, call me Effie, dear, please.” Euphemia laughed a little and wrapped her arms around Sirius’ shoulders. He froze immediately, tension shooting up his spine. Oh, an adult had never hugged him before. He was just about used to James hugging him, to Remus’ arm around his shoulders, Pete’s arm around his neck. But an adult? Someone in a position of power? Someone capable of pain? Euphemia pulled away, so clearly aware of the way Sirius had tensed up, and Sirius flinched, waiting for the incoming blow, how much had he disrespected this woman?

Instead, Euphemia smiled that same sad smile that James gave him when Sirius flinched at a high-five in the first few days of returning from Grimmauld Place, or when a hand on his back made him jump. “Oh Sirius.”

Then Fleamont shook his hand and Sirius was a little bewildered by it all, as the Potters greeted Peter and Remus and ushered the four of them out of the Platform. There was a nearby Floo Station in an office at King’s Cross that Fleamont cheerfully told them was a colleagues, and everything was a whirl of activity and chatter and warmth.

The Potter’s house was just as warm and affectionate as the Potters themselves. James had apparently insisted they all stay in his room, because there were three extra beds in there - which was decked out in Gryffindor red and gold, covered in Quidditch memorabilia. Sirius, strangely, felt more at home here than he ever had in Grimmauld Place.

The few days the Marauders had at the Potters passed quickly, but they were idyllic. It had snowed in Devon, and they spent the mornings building snow forts, laughing and joking, running around together. In the afternoons they came inside and had scones with clotted cream and Euphemia’s homemade jam, then played Gobstones or Wizard Chess or listened to Fleamont regale them with tales of his own time at Hogwarts. Dinner was lavish every day, with joints of meat and roast potatoes and vegetables, with trifle or apple pie for afters. At night they curled up in James’ room together, discussing pranks and talking over everything and nothing, comfortable together.

On Christmas Eve, before Remus had to go back to Wales and Peter back down the road, they sat around the fire and exchanged presents. Sirius gave Remus a huge bar of Honeydukes Finest, James _Quidditch In Review: 1973_ and Peter a set of invisible, disappearing and coloured inks. In return, Sirius got his own copy of _Electric Warrior_ from the other Marauders, along with a poster of David Bowie and a new set of quills because he kept chewing his own.

Euphemia and Fleamont then brought out presents for all four of the Marauders, despite Remus and Sirius’ insistence that they wouldn’t take any presents. The Potters gave Sirius a copy of _Aladdin Sane_ and a record by a band called _Queen_ , who Fleamont said weren’t all that popular outside of America, despite being English, but he thought they were interesting. They gave Remus a hat, scarf and gloves set in a lovely grey cashmere that Sirius could tell was higher quality than most things Remus owned. Peter got a cookbook, annotated with Euphemia’s own recipes, because by far he was the one most interested in food, always hovered around the kitchen when Euphemia and their house elf Tilly were cooking. James, who was so thrilled Sirius thought he might pass out - got the newest _Comet 60_ broom, and had to be convinced to wait until it had stopped blizzarding before he went to try it out.

They said goodbye that evening, hugs and assurances to meet on the train platform. Peter Floo’d back to his own house down in the village, and Mr Lupin - a weathered looking man with the same lanky frame as Remus - appeared at the door to Apparate back to Wales with his son.

James and Sirius carried on much the same, racing around the back garden on brooms, throwing snowballs in lieu of a Quaffle, eating scones and jam and playing chess with Fleamont. The last night before they were due to go to King’s Cross, Sirius laid in bed with James, their backs pressed together. It was late, and they were a little tipsy on cider. Sirius was thinking of his Bowie poster, of the Kestrels Chaser from James’ new annual, of Robert.

“Jamie?” Sirius whispered, curling his feet into the charmed hot water bottle at the end of the bed. James made a noise to show he was listening. “You ever- you ever look at boys the same way you look at girls?”

James was silent for a moment. Sirius wasn’t so concerned. He’d heard from Bella and Cissy and Andy, listened to Uncle Cygnus, that so long as they produced an heir, the family didn’t care quite who they looked at or fancied or did things with. James hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe sometimes… like that Kestrels Chaser? But I think it’s because I’d rather _be_ him.”

“Oh.”

James’ back was still pressed against Sirius’, warm and reassuring. “Do you?”

“Yeah, I think I do.” Sirius’ heart was buzzing up into his throat. He’d thought it for a while, wondered why his eyes lingered on boys just like they did girls.

“That’s okay.” James cleared his throat. Sirius felt him inhale. “You don’t fancy me, do you?”

Sirius snorted. “You’re good-looking Jamie, but you’re like my bloody brother.”

“Thank Merlin for that.”

And that was that.

Sirius was just drifting off, floating strangely now that the weight was off his shoulders, now that James didn’t care, now that Sirius felt _safe_.

“Sirius?” James whispered, and Sirius hummed in response. “Those scars from your back… are they from your parents?”

He didn’t even realise the words had slipped out of his mouth until they hit the air, sleepy and heavy. “Yeah, they are.”

James just nodded - Sirius felt the movement - and reached behind himself to grab Sirius’ hand. They didn’t say anything further, just drifted off to sleep like that, hands clasped, stalwart together, and Sirius was eternally thankful for James Fleamont Potter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay you guys. I would love opinions here. I feel like this story jumps around a little bit. So far it's just lots of little scenes of their time at Hogwarts, the way their friendships are progressing. I didn't want to write every single moment of Hogwarts because I feel like this story would end up 100k before I even got to the main events I have planned. I wanna know if you guys enjoy/mind the way it's just vignettes of their time at Hogwarts? I guess I just need a bit of reassurance! Haha, how ridiculous! 
> 
> Anyway, I love you all! Come say hi on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/jennandblitz) if you like!


	11. Doing All Right - Queen - 3rd Year

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this is late guys, real life has been kicking my ass these past two weeks! I love you all!

The Potters were exactly how Remus imagined them. As if you had split James in half, his mother-hen worrying on one side with Euphemia and her kind hazel eyes and constant asks of _have you had enough to eat, Remus, dear?_ and his penchant for trouble and that damn inane grin in Fleamont, the look of mischief on his face, wondering how he can next pull a practical joke on his wife, son and his friends.

And it was wonderful. Remus spent his days with his best friends, and on Christmas Eve he found that he didn’t really want to leave. From his fellow Marauders Remus received a ridiculous amount of Honeydukes, and a leather-bound notebook - probably courtesy of Pete’s sister, who married a muggle - that his wizard friends thought was a really marvellous invention. Mr and Mrs Potter also gave Remus a hat, scarf and gloves set, which seemed far too lovely for someone like him, but he accepted anyway, muttering profuse thank you’s.

When his father came to pick him up that evening, Remus was equal parts happy and sad. He was glad that he could go back to somewhere he could be himself, not hide away who he was, grumble about his joints aching on the waning moon and eat as much as he liked on the approach to the full. But then, his parents didn’t seem to understand the wolf the way the Marauders did. Sirius, James and Peter didn’t seem to care that he would growl at them if they even jokingly tried to steal his sixth piece of bacon, or was inconsolably grumpy for the rest of the day if they were put into separate groups during a practical lesson. Of course, his parents couldn’t understand that. Because Lyall had always sort of discouraged having friends at all. It had taken Remus a while to understand his father’s gentle questioning during the holidays, but now he understood it. Lyall didn’t want Remus to have the chance to mess up, the chance to be exposed, and he thought the easiest way to achieve that was to eschew all meaningful contact.

But the Marauders already knew, and they wouldn’t expose him. In fact, things had become much easier since his friends had discovered his secret. Remus always had two copies of notes from the lessons he missed - sometimes three if Sirius decided to attend lessons and not sneak them both back to the dorms to sleep under the pretence of ‘looking after Remus’ - and he always had his friends to look after him in the lull after the full, or put up with him in the run up to the full.

At first, though, Remus was grateful for the quiet of being at home. Hope made hot chocolate on Christmas Eve and they ate ginger cookies and Remus talked all about how lessons had gone so far this year. He tactfully avoided the pranks the Marauders had pulled in the past four months, the hostile takeover of Greenhouse Two with carefully planned Niffler invasions and reactive Devil’s Snare and Tentacular Cacti doorways. The yearly turn-the-main-staircase-into-a-waterslide prank (some savvy students had come equipped with water-repelling Charms and inflatables), trying to talk the House Elves into slipping Babbling Brew into the lemon meringue pie again, the prank Remus had orchestrated based off the Muggle practise of putting cling-film over doors and toilet bowls, and James had modified a Barrier-Charm on every bathroom on the second and third floor, and several doorways at random throughout the castle. It had taken the teachers quite a while to puzzle out that one and Remus had been proud for a while, even despite the detention McGonagall threatened them with if she found proof it was a prank of their making.

So Remus, really, just mentioned classes. He didn’t talk about how the wolf was getting more and more violent, teetering closer to his edges the closer the moon got. He didn’t mention how the wolf seemed more and more unhappy with the Shrieking Shack, tearing at its limbs in recompense for being cooped up, and that he’d woken after several moons to Madame Pomfrey peering over him, face ashen with worry as she poured a Blood-Replenishing Potion into his mouth. He didn’t bring up how he had to clench his back teeth to stop the howls, or that his senses were getting sharper and sharper even when it was a new moon. Remus could smell the dinner his mother cooked hours earlier on her skin, could smell the faint tang of Apparition on his father’s coat.

Christmas Day itself was quiet. They didn’t speak to Hope’s side of the family, not since she married _that strange man,_ and Lyall didn’t really have much family, beyond a brother who had relocated to the Carpathian Mountains to better study the Creatures there. So in the morning, they got up, had tea and toast with honey - a real Lupin treat - and sat around the fire to exchange gifts. Remus gave his mother a set of gardening gloves he and Sirius had charmed to repel water and dirt, and a kneeling pad they had charmed to be extra cushioned. He gave his father a set of paintbrushes that he and James had spelled to be self-cleaning - because James was the best of them at cleaning spells - and in return, he’d received a set of Muggle paperbacks. Remus smiled, thinking of all the fun he and Sirius would have reading through these ones too. It was a lovely night, quiet, homely, listening to the wireless and drinking hot chocolate spiked with orange liqueur and tumbling into bed feeling pleasantly warm. The niggling feeling at the back of his mind abated for a while, but it didn’t last.

By the 30th of December, Remus was near _desperate_ to get back to Hogwarts. The moon was well over a week away, 9 days actually, and yet he felt as if he might transform at any moment. The wolf wanted its pack. Remus wanted his friends. The ferocity of the beast in his ribcage surprised Remus at every turn. The wolf was never like this at Hogwarts, and it wasn’t like this during the summer, either. What had changed?

Remus was on edge. He was _terrified_ of the wolf. Sirius always said to him _you’re normal for the rest of the cycle, aren’t you? It’s just that one day!_ But Sirius was wrong. The wolf was around for the week leading up to the moon, and whilst Remus was usually quite good at keeping it under control, here in the valleys of Wales, he felt exposed, as if he were more wolf than boy. He wanted his friends here to calm him. He wanted James to peer at him as if he really cared and shove his last hash brown across the table to him. He wanted Peter to slip him some Bertie’s Beans in the middle of Astronomy when it all become too much and the moon was just there, there, _there_. He wanted Sirius to sit and read with him, he wanted his fingers in Sirius’ hair, the unique tactile sensation of that black silk against the roughness of his palm. Somehow, Sirius, the whirlwind, the boundless energy, the one who fired off swears and Hexes like anyone else would pleasantries, made Remus feel calmer. Remus longed for his friends, their reassurances, their endless acceptances of him.

Remus strode through the snow, knee high at least, with his mouth set in a hard line. It was easier out in the countryside, away from the smells of everything. He had tried to write a letter to James and Sirius earlier in the day, but had sat for a long time with his nails digging into his palms, wondering how to put into words how it felt to have the beast inside him trying to claw it’s way out on Remus’ time, not it’s own. It already had one day a month, it already made Remus’ body betray him at every turn, and now it got his mind for another week?

Remus would’ve said it was unfair. But that implied that other things were fair… Remus had his friends, and although they weren’t around now, they were still going to be back with him in two days. Only two days left and he would be back at King’s Cross with his friends. That was what Remus kept saying to himself as he paced a circle around the housing estate, trying to burn off some of that energy. He paused at a turn in the path, wondering if that _was_ a rabbit he could smell, or if it was his subconscious. The wolf should’ve been quiet, dormant within him until the moon grew fuller, but Remus could feel it.

_Run. Chase. Hunt. Kill._

Was being away from his friends really so detrimental? Had he come to rely on them so much already? What would it be like after Hogwarts, when, inevitably, they would grow apart? Would he be stuck then with the wolf constantly bubbling under his skin, desperate to get out?

With a huff, Remus turned down the path, fingers numb from the cold, and started up the driveway to the Lupin’s cottage. It was strange how the definition of _home_ had changed in only three years… Home was Hogwarts, wasn’t it? The place where he felt safe enough, as safe as he’d ever felt, as seen as he’d ever been.

Remus stopped at the back door of the cottage and banged his boots against the step to knock off the snow. His breath was coming in plumes as Remus pushed open the back door and stepped into the cottage. The fire was already roaring in the fireplace, trying to heat the whole house because the storage heaters were expensive and the winter was already tough. Remus tilted his head, inhaling a little. His father was out somewhere, probably to the supermarket the next village over, or to see a client about his freelance work. He hadn’t left long ago - his scent was still lingering by the front door - and his mother was by the fire, listening to the radio.

The wolf growled softly at the back of Remus’ throat and he stilled. Remus stopped by the doorway, not knowing why the wolf suddenly roiled up inside him. Remus clenched his fist in his pocket, not trusting the wolf, not trusting _himself_.

“Oh, hello love.” Hope hummed, putting the paper down and turning a little. “Did you have a good walk?”

Remus cleared his throat before he could speak. “Yeah, fine…” His voice felt like sandpaper through his throat, snarling over his tongue to the back of his teeth.

Hope frowned a little, fingers still on the edges of the paper. Remus tilted his head, scented the air - the wolf snarled and strained against him.

_Fear_.

The air thickened, stilled down to the icy cold of the outside. Remus stayed by the doorway, not trusting the wolf, not trusting _himself_ to move.

After a moment Hope rose from the sofa. “Well, shall I put a pot of tea on?”

Remus nodded, not trusting the wolf, not trusting _himself_.

Hope swallowed. The sound rang through Remus’ head like an echo and the wolf howled and snarled and pushed against him, baying for blood. Remus shook his head, frowning a little to himself. The moon was a week away, he shouldn’t feel like this. He shouldn’t feel like this at all. No thirteen year old boy should imagine ripping people apart with his teeth.

The radio turned to white noise in Remus’ ears, just the sound of heartbeats left now, as Hope stepped forward towards the kitchen.

Remus blinked again and his hand was around his mother’s throat.

Hope’s eyes were wide, her fingers at his, and she looked _terrified_. Remus was taller than his mother, had been for a while too. She was always slight, compared to his father and to Remus now, since that growth spurt halfway through second year. But it was still jarring to look down at her and see her fear-filled expression staring up at him.

Remus realised his fingers were tight around her throat and there were tears in her eyes. Remus dropped his hand and stepped back until his thighs were pressed against the arm of the sofa. His heart leapt into his throat, acidic with guilt and terror and hatred. _Oh Merlin._

Hope’s hands went to her throat, leaning against the doorframe where Remus had unknowingly crowded her. “ _Cariad_ …”

Remus shook his head and turned to run up the stairs, two at a time, until he was in his room. He shut the door, leaning against it, breathing heavily. After a moment he stepped away, grabbing the chair from his desk and pushing it against the door, wedging under the handle. Remus stepped back until he could sink onto the bed and let his head fall into his hands.

Oh Merlin, what had he done? He closed his eyes and saw his mother’s terrified face on his eyelids, felt the wolf rear its ugly bloody head and want to _hunt_.

Remus pressed his hands over his face, relieved to feel skin and not fur, fingernails and not claws. He wanted to be back at Hogwarts, he wanted to be back where he felt safe, and where everyone around him would be safe too.

Remus only went downstairs again the next lunchtime. He didn’t miss the wary look his mother gave him, the way she kept the table between the two of them. Remus wondered if she had told his father about the previous night.

Shame prickled the back of Remus’ neck until he was back at King’s Cross with his father.

On the train, Remus knew he was subdued, knew his fingers were clenched tight in his pockets and James had frowned over his glasses and Peter had given him an extra Chocolate Frog and Sirius had slung an arm around his middle and said _you sure you’re alright, Rem?_ but he just couldn’t shake the thought that he was a bloodthirsty monster and everyone who he loved would get hurt eventually. He tried to shift away from Sirius, tried to reassure James he was fine and refuse that fourth Chocolate Frog from Peter, but his friends wouldn’t let him. Sirius clung tight to his middle.

Sirius probably knew what it was like, coming back from somewhere you used to call home to where you _knew_ was home now. Sirius was always quiet when he first came back from the holidays, although, this year after the Potters, he seemed infinitely better. His eyes still had that silvery spark that was dulled from his time in London. Just like the way James looked after Sirius, made him stay with the Potters this Christmas, always deflecting any mention of the Black’s, maybe they would help Remus too. They already accepted him, loved him despite the wolf.

Remus turned his body towards his friends, tilted his head to inhale the scent of Sirius’ rosemary shampoo, and the wolf rumbled affectionately. Everything else seemed to melt away.

_Home. Pack. Mine._

 

“I’m sorry, really, I am.” Remus swirled the dregs of his Butterbeer around in the glass. “It’s just… I don’t think I like you, the way you like me…”

Sophia huffed and started digging in her pockets for her mittens. “Well…” She pulled on one mitten, cheeks red. “I’m quite embarrassed now, aren’t I?”

Remus pushed his glass away, his cheeks equally pink. As first kisses go, that one was pretty awful. Not only had he sort of frozen up as soon as Sophia had leant in, but he’d stayed that way until she pulled back and fixed him with a curious look, and then blurted _that_ out. And now he had some sticky pink lipgloss at the corner of his mouth and couldn’t quite bring himself to lift a hand and wipe it off.

Not only that, but the moon was four days away - Sophia had been very insistent about seeing him _this weekend_ at Hogsmeade - and the wolf was snarling at the back of his throat. It wanted its pack, it wanted to know why Remus was in the pub, not with his pack, his friends, but with this _other_. Remus realised his fingers were shaking with the effort to hold back the wolf. The wolf wanted to know why Remus would let _this_ touch him, _kiss him_ , although this was a bloody awful first kiss as things go. Remus swallowed back a growl, other hand clenching in his pocket.

_No!_ No, it wasn’t going to happen again. He wasn’t going to let the wolf get the best of him again, not after what happened at Christmas.

“I’m really sorry, Sophia. Really. You’re lovely, yo-”

Sophia found her other mitten and pulled it on as she stood up from the table. “It’s fine, Remus. I understand. I’m just- I think I was hoping you would.”

Remus sighed. The wolf seemed easier the more distance between them. “I- I was hoping I was too, honestly…”

Sophia paused a moment, frowned at him a little, before she too sighed softly. “See you on Tuesday for Defence revision?”

“Um… if that’s still-” Remus let out a huff of breath, his cheeks flaming red because this girl was so nonchalant- “If that’s still okay, yeah… see you then, then… on Tuesday.”

“Okay.” Sophia tightened her scarf and shot Remus a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “See you Remus.”

Remus watched her leave, weaving in and out of the tables, and every breath as she walked away felt easier and easier. The pub seemed louder and louder though, the scents of the people filling it almost overwhelming. Remus tilted his head, searching for the scents of his pack. After a moment, he stood and made his way out to the small paved area behind the Three Broomsticks, where people would sit in the summer, but it was practically deserted in January.

Except for one person.

David was Rosmerta’s second cousin once-removed, from what Remus had heard in the common room, or the library, or the Great Hall. He was sixteen and helping Rosmerta out for a while. Remus wasn’t entirely sure why he wasn’t at Hogwarts, though, was he a Squib? Did he… not get his letter? Could wizards even be home-schooled? Surely, if they could, then Remus should’ve been home-schooled? But then… then he wouldn’t have his friends, and he would be at the Lupin’s cottage all the time and maybe the wolf would hate that even more than it did now. The same dark hair, brown eyes and a wry smile that caught Remus’ eye in the pub before Christmas was before him again now, pulling him from his thoughts.

Remus had smiled every time, feeling flustered and awkward and entirely confused. He was far too aware of just how alone they were.

“Hello,” David said, around a drag of a cigarette that plumed around him like Remus’ breath did on a cold night.

“Oh, hi- sorry. I didn’t think anyone would be out here, I-” Remus just wanted a moment to think. The wolf was bristling again, as if it could sense Remus’ discomfort, awkwardness, the strange attraction.

David smiled. “It’s fine, no harm done.”

Remus shrugged, hands in his pockets, leaning against the wall there. “Oh… okay.”

There was a hare just beyond the hedge. Remus could smell it. He turned his head and watched it with the wolf’s eyes, paws just visible beneath the hedges, the rustling of the leaves just audible to the wolf’s ears. A noise from the High Street startled it, and the hare ran off up the hill. Remus breathed a small sigh of relief and turned back towards the courtyard to find David closer. A lot closer.

“Hey,” David said, still smiling. He smelt of smoke and Butterbeer and Remus felt his cheeks turning vermillion. Oh _Merlin_ , why him?

The wolf growled and Remus had to clench his teeth to stop the sound spilling out. It didn’t want this person so close to him, it wanted its _pack_.

“Hi,” Remus breathed, willing the wolf down.

David just smiled wider, and then ducked his head and he was kissing Remus, pressing his mouth against his. The wolf snarled immediately, rearing up at the contact and pressure and taste and Remus stepped back. Sure, it was a nice kiss, he thought. It was certainly better than his kiss with Sophia - no shiny lipgloss or powdery smell or anything like that - but the wolf _was not_ happy.

“Sorry, I- I-” Remus shook his head. The wolf wanted _blood._ For a terrifying moment Remus thought he might seize David by the throat, seek out the source of the pulse he could hear steadily thumping in the other boys’ throat.

He pushed past back into the Three Broomsticks, and practically _ran_ through to the front door and didn’t stop until he was stepping through the portrait hole of the Gryffindor common room.

Remus kept his head down - the moon was four days away and he could smell and hear everything and it was just _too much_ \- until he was in the dormitory. He expected his friends would be in Hogsmeade themselves, or causing all sorts of trouble, so he expected to find the room empty, but as he burst through the door, Remus careened into James.

“Merlin! Hey Rem, you alright? How’d the date go? Good time at the Three Broomsticks? Ah ha, thought you’d be back a little later, living it up with a fourth year, hey?” James cleared his throat and peered at Remus. “… You alright?”

“Fine, fine,” Remus said, throat feeling like sandpaper but he didn’t have to hide it around James.

James set down his armful of parchment and followed Remus over to where he threw himself down on his bed. “What happened?”

Remus turned his head to inhale the scents on his pillow. The strand of black hair there was Sirius’ from the night before. “Weren’t you going somewhere?”

James waved an impatient hand and sat on the edge of the bed, mother-hen-mode engaged. “It doesn’t matter, what’s wrong?”

Remus rolled onto his side, towards the half of his pillow Sirius slept on whenever they shared the bed. “Sophia kissed me.”

“Yeah!” James punched the air, his face blooming into a wide grin. “That’s bloody- … not good?”

“No,” Remus bemoaned. “I didn’t like it…” He inhaled sharply, before letting out a long breath. “ _The wolf_ didn’t like it.”

“Oh…” James put a hand on his shoulder. Remus held his breath, hoping the wolf wouldn’t snarl, but it didn’t. If anything, it seemed to relax. “That’s…”

“Yeah,” Remus agreed, miserable. “Then David, the boy with the dark hair who was helping Rosmerta out? … He kissed me whilst I was outside trying to figure out what the bloody hell to do.”

“Oh.”

Remus rolled over and looked at James, trying to decipher the look on his face. He knew that boys liking boys wasn’t acceptable. He knew that there was a boy in the village who Hope had heard had been seen holding hands with another boy and that _wasn’t appropriate_. He wondered if James might shout or call him weird or disgusting or refuse to share a dorm room with him now or no longer put his arm around Remus’ shoulders when they were walking between Charms and Arithmancy.

Instead, James smiled softly and shrugged one shoulder. His hand came up to scrub through his mass of dark hair before settling back on Remus’ arm. “Was that… any better?”

Remus frowned and opened and closed his mouth a few times before he managed to think of what words to say. Was it? Or was it just too overshadowed by the wolf? He probably shouldn’t say anything. He probably should just stay quiet and shrug but it was _James_ , James who was endlessly accepting and always quick to jump to the Marauders defences. James, who was always looking out for them, always stopped what he was doing when Sirius flinched at a high five or Peter’s voice got a little squeaky or Remus caught himself staring up at the moon with a little too much vehemence. James, who always asked _are you alright, mate?_ Remus felt like James wouldn’t laugh or shout at him, maybe it would be good to say something out loud.

“I- I’m not sure… It was less… sticky. But… but the wolf… it still didn’t like it.”

“Well. That’s something, isn’t it?”

Remus groaned and shoved his face into his pillow. Perhaps if he closed his eyes and wished hard enough the world would just spontaneously right itself and he wouldn’t have a beast living in his ribcage or like kissing boys more than girls or have to have conversations about either of those things.

James chuckled. “Whatever happens, Rem, you’ll always have us. Whoever you like or don’t like kissing. Not a big deal compared to everything else, is it?”

Remus nodded into his pillow, not wanting to look up. James sounded so mature, so well-rounded and knowledgeable and always knew how to say the right things, even if he couldn’t shut up to save his life.

“Thanks, James.”

James nodded. “You’re welcome.” Just like that, James switched from mother-hen to the loudmouthed toe-rag the rest of school saw, his voice booming now. “Good, I’m glad. Whatever you need, Rem. Merlin, would you look at that. I was due to meet Peter in the library to go over our Muggle Studies papers. Good thing you don’t take that, eh, Rem? Although there’s no need for you to take it, you’d probably be bored out of your mind, eh?”

James gathered the scrolls he had set down when Remus first arrived, the sound of crinkling paper vaguely soothing to Remus. “You alright staying here, Rem? We’ll be back up before dinner I imagine, shouldn’t be too much to do. I hope there’s Shepherd’s Pie tonight, maybe we’ll swing by the kitchens on our way back up and see what we can charm the House Elves into revealing. Anyhoo, we’ll be in the library if you need us, Rem!”

Remus was sure James kept talking all the way down the stairs, and he distinctly heard an _Oh, hello, Evans!_ followed by a sharp shriek from James. He smiled to himself, wishing the world comprised of nothing more than he and his friends. No one else, no parents, no people, no _moon_ , just Remus, Sirius, James and Peter.

_Pack. Mine. Love._


	12. Rebel Rebel - David Bowie - 3rd Year

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look, a wild AITT chapter. This has been sitting half finished for a while, but I've (thankfully) gotten a burst of inspiration, in no small way thanks to confunded-gryffindor for the hype and encouragement, and Purplechimera for being the perpetual idea fountain you are, and for the wonderful beta. Hopefully more consistent updates from these boys in the future. I love you all very much, thank you for reading, and as always, your comments make my life unfathomably better.

“That’s a stupid idea. Minnie’ll see right through us in a second.”

“Agreed. How about we get everything ready for the end of school? Pete, you can just come over and stay… Sirius… we can… I don’t know… we can—” James shrugged a little, trailing off and peering at the cauldron between them.

Sirius circled his wand over the potion they were brewing, not wanting to discuss it at all. “Whatever.”

The secret passageway they were currently sitting in was a nice, cool respite from the growing warmth of the spring. Sirius still felt the shame flooding his cheeks, making the blood beneath his skin turn hot, rising to the surface, so painfully fucking obvious with his alabaster, aristocratic complexion. He didn’t want to go to Grimmauld Place this summer. He wanted to stay with James, chasing the wonderful feeling of _home_ he got from the Potters when Euphemia piled an extra spoonful of potatoes on his plate. Especially after Christmas. He didn’t want to be shown the vast difference between his own home life—invited to dinner, best robes, stilted conversation about just how much of a let down he was—to the wonder of the Potters—the fire, curled up on the sofa, listening to records with Fleamont, eating Euphemia’s scones and homemade jam.

James sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He had been relegated to a support-only role thanks to his awful track record of potions. “Mum will cover for you. She wants you to stay with us instead of with _them_.”

Sirius shrugged, dropping a handful of Buckthorn leaves into the potion. “That’s not what’s important here. If we could kindly concentrate on the matter at hand. This is an _illegal_ spell we’re working on here, we need to get it _right_.” _For Remus_ hung in the air after his words. “He’s not doing this by himself after the summer.”

“Agreed.” James and Peter said in unison, chins tipped up, resolute and focused. The trio thought nothing of what they were actually undertaking—dangerous magic meant for wizards of-age, meant for supervision and tutorage—they thought only of their friend and how to ease his suffering.

 

Sirius groaned and threw back the covers, swinging his feet out of bed on the same breath. He had been trying to sleep for hours now, and the release of dreaming and not thinking or being or whirring around just wouldn’t come. Sniffing sharply, Sirius seized his previously discarded pyjama top and pulled it on over his head, sending his hair into a frizzy mess that he paid no attention to.

Usually at this time of night, when sleep was as far off as the stars, Sirius would curl up under James’ covers and mutter plans in his ear, huffing at the way James’ hair would _always_ find a way to tickle his nose. Or he would ease behind Remus’ drawn drapes and press his cold feet against Remus’ warm calves and listen to him reading, vaguely following the story—it was something about killing birds this year—but following the threads of his voice, sometimes hoarse with the moon but still soothing and lilting with that Welsh tinge he could never lose.

But the Moon Night was only two days ago and Remus was fast asleep, burrowed under his covers and pretending that his very bones weren’t aching. Sirius, James and Peter had been up all night too—at Sirius’ insistence because he wouldn’t sleep during Moon Nights anyway—working on their plans to become Animagi, so it wasn’t worth waking James either. A cranky James Potter was no fun for anyone, especially considering how _un_ productive their research last night was. It seemed like there wasn’t a concise list anywhere—shocking, that, for something so highly sought after—and it took a lot of collating information and looking in various different sources to get anywhere. Especially when their prime researcher wasn’t in on the plans. Remus seemed to have an affinity for books, they whispered their secrets to him when the others weren’t quite listening carefully enough, and without his particular brand of professorial magic, their task list progressed a lot slower.

_Why don’t we just tell him?_ Peter had asked that Moon Night, rubbing his fingers in tiny concentric circles over his temples.

_It’s a surprise!_ Sirius had snapped, leafing through a handful of parchments that he was sure were all out of order.

_He’ll forbid us, won’t he?_ James had agreed, pensieve behind his perpetually smudged glasses.

Sirius padded down the stairs, light-footed down over the creaking wood to appear in the common room in search of something like might distract him from the weary, lightheadedness that assailed him. Sirius found Robert at the window seat, surrounded by papers and books, the record player spinning next to him, soundless for his privacy charm. Robert looked up and waved him over, the quill in his hand spattering ink down his forearm.

“Oh Merlin,” Robert murmured, rubbing at his arm. “It’s not 4am again, is it?”

Sirius laughed and slumped onto the window seat, tucking one foot up against his body. “No, I just can’t sleep again.”

Robert pushed a sheaf of parchment away and peered at Sirius in the low light of the common room. “Something on your mind, kid?”

Sirius hummed and picked at a ragged bit of his thumbnail, staring out at the waning moon above the Willow. After this summer, that was his goal, that was when Remus would be able to never suffer alone again. He shrugged one shoulder. Sirius could hide his intentions so easily, ever able to just cover over his worry. “No, I don’t think so. I—” Sirius bit his lip. He wasn’t even sure how he would finish that sentence.

Robert put a hand on his shoulder, his thumb circling again, soothing. He didn’t press for Sirius to continue. His eyes were such a warm brown that Sirius could only think of Remus’ amber eyes. “What would you do, if a friend was in a bad situation, and you couldn’t get them out of it?”

Robert bit his lip, his thumb still rubbing over Sirius’ shoulder. He felt oddly at ease with the touch, usually only comfortable to be physical with the Marauders, only comfortable to be cuddled up with Remus or pressed together with James or whispering close to Peter. But this didn’t seem so bad.

“I think I would… be there for them as much as I can. And I think I would try and make the hard bits of their life easier, however I could.” Robert looked uncharacteristically serious. Sirius was so used to seeing him joking with the Prewetts or miming out a self-invented dance to _Cracked Actor_ that this solemn Robert, with tight lips and a furrowed brow, concerned, worried, grown-up, looked like a stranger. But he was right, wasn’t he? Robert was smart, and had his head on straight. He was a Muggleborn and he was fantastic, even further proof that his family ideals were just horseshit.

“Yeah,” Sirius murmured, thinking of Remus in the Shack, remembering the howls he heard last year, seeing how fragile he looked at the dawn after every Moon Night. “That’s what I thought.”

“And I think I would—” Robert smiled softly, his eyes drifting over Sirius as if looking for something— “I would probably tell an adult, if I thought they could help my friend.”

“An adult?” Sirius scoffed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m _fourteen_ , Rob.”

Robert snorted a laugh and scrubbed his own hand through Sirius’ hair. “Yeah, so, bloody, grown, up, eh? So bloody adult at fourteen, you lil’ scab.”

“Scab?!” Sirius thrust his arm out to try and push Robert off of him, laughing too much. It felt good to laugh, on nights like these, when he was so worried about Remus, so caught up in his own head thinking of their Animagus project, over ensuring Remus would _never_ have to be alone in the worst moments. Too busy avoiding thinking about going back to Grimmauld this summer. He wanted to stay with James, like he had over Christmas, away from the Blacks and all the cold pain of the house. But he would never be able to do it. Walburga wouldn’t let him go. He had a _reputation to uphold_.

“Yeah, a scab!” Robert laughs, finally pulling back, his hair mussed, his cheeks flushed. _He looks like Remus_ , Sirius thought again, breathless from laughing. The moment sat between them as the pair caught their breath, both grateful, it seemed, for the reprieve.

Robert set his hand on Sirius’ shoulder. “I’m here if you need it, kid.”

Sirius shivered despite the mild Spring air, frowning at something strange washing through him. He knew he liked boys, he was pretty sure he did, anyway; Bolan, Bowie, that Kestrals Chaser, but Robert? Robert who showed him records and listened to Bowie with him? Robert with his tawny hair and warm brown eyes and a smattering of freckles around his nose…

Then, there was movement over Robert’s shoulder, a different kind of tawny hair that Sirius recognised. His brain felt full of treacle, unsure of how to act or react or whether he really had just gone mad from the tiredness.

“Oh—hi Sirius… Robert,” Remus murmured, his dressing gown pulled tight around his middle. His eyes looked dark and Sirius could tell he was in pain from the way he was holding himself, one shoulder slightly higher than the other, a strange restlessness peeking at the corner of his mouth.

“Rem, you okay?” Sirius asked, his voice catching strangely in his throat even despite him clearing it. He felt, oddly, as if he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t. As if he’d been out after hours, plucked up by a disapproving Professor only there was nothing on Remus’ face to suggest he was unhappy.

“Yeah, fine. Just going to Pomfrey for a potion for my migraine.” Remus peered at them for a moment, just a second longer than he would’ve usually, and Sirius felt a strange weight settling in the pit of his stomach.

“Oh. Need some company?” Sirius asked. Robert shifted beside him, picking up his previous essay notes and skimming over them.

“No, no, I’ll be alright.” Remus took a few steps towards the portrait hole before he paused and glanced over his shoulder. He smiled wryly, his amber eyes meeting with Sirius’ grey ones. “You should try and get some sleep, Sirius. You know you’re cranky if you don’t.”

“Says you,” Sirius shot back, a warm grin blooming on his face. Of course, Remus was concerned about his sleeping habits. And Sirius was concerned about his, too, of course. Sirius worried when Remus didn’t sleep enough, when he slept too much, when he slept without being in the same space as Sirius, when he was relegated to his own bed and not to their shared space of reading and comfort. Sirius didn’t know _why_ he couldn’t sleep that night; his brain was clearly just whirring away. He wanted to say _if you read to me I’ll sleep like a bloody baby_ , but that seemed too odd in front of Robert, out of the confines of their dormitory. “You’re worse than I am.”

Remus huffed a little chuckle and waved at Sirius as he made his way to the portrait hole.

Sirius watched him go for a moment before he turned back to see Robert smiling at his essay papers. “What?” Sirius grumbled as he sat back down, kicking Robert in the leg in recompense.

“Nothing, kid. Nothing.” Robert leant over and pulled a book onto his knee. “Lupin’s right though. You really should get some rest, a growin’ lad like you at _fourteen_ needs his sleep.”

“Oh piss off, Rob.” Sirius shoved him in the shoulder, but Robert was looking at him strangely, as if he were waiting for Sirius to say something. But Sirius didn’t know what he was meant to say, he didn’t know what he was meant to do at all.

After a moment, Robert smiled wider and ruffled Sirius’ hair again. Maybe that was what having an older brother was like. “Like I said, Sirius. Here for ya’ if you need it.”

“Yeah, thanks Rob.” Sirius stood, stretching his arms over his head and turning away a little from the other boy. _Did_ he fancy Robert? What was he meant to do if he did? Was there some kind of signal for boys who liked boys? Was Robert _giving_ him those signals and he had no idea?

“Night kid,” Robert retorted, still smiling wryly into his notes as if Sirius was missing something important.

Sirius trudged up the stairs to their dormitory and slipped soundlessly into the room. Peter was snoring in the corner, James with his curtains—always—thrown wide, face pressed into his pillow. Remus’ bed was empty—of course he wasn’t back from the Hospital Wing yet. Sirius sat on his own bed, curtains open to the right to see the doorway and make sure he could see when Remus returned.

Contrary to the beliefs of many in the Gryffindor common room, Sirius Black was _actually_ quite studious when he put his mind to it. That was precisely why he had his Muggle Studies book open on his lap at 1am, waiting for Remus to return. Luckily, Muggle Studies was entirely enthralling, and Sirius avidly consumed a chapter and a half before the door cracked to his right. At first, Sirius jumped, thinking himself to be back in Grimmauld, caught reading what he shouldn’t, caught writing letters or looking at the sleeve notes of _Aladdin Sane_ , but no.

Remus saw Sirius immediately, the soft light of _Lumos_ from the pillow next to him, and crossed the length of the room.

“Hey…”

Sirius smiled and slid the book from his lap. “Hey… Feeling better?”

“Mhmm,” Remus murmured as he ran a hand through his hair then slipped off his dressing gown. Remus always ran warm, even in the depths of winter. “You still can’t sleep?”

Sirius shook his head, the strands of his hair wisping around his shoulders. Remus looked so soft in the waning moonlight, the tail of a scar from the collar of his shirt, the smattering of freckles over his nose, warm, bright amber eyes. Sirius wanted to protect him from everything. Even though they were just fourteen, Sirius wanted nothing to ever happen to Remus.

_Just this summer_ , Sirius told himself as he rubbed a hand over his face. Just this summer and then Remus wouldn’t have to endure the Moon Nights in the Shack by himself any more. _Just this summer_.

“Sirius?”

“Er—sorry, Rem… distracted tonight.”

Remus smiled his slow, shy, wry little Remus smile and shrugged one shoulder. “I’ve got a while until this potion kicks in. Shall we read a bit?”

“Yeah. I’d like that.” Sirius smiled and slipped from the bed, crossing over to Remus’ and climbing in next to him. Sirius rested his head on Remus’ forearm as he read to them both. He couldn’t tell anyone the first thing about the story, no clue how it started or how it might end, but Remus’ voice pulled on the threads of him like a comfort blanket, knitting into him.

When they awoke in the morning, the book was splayed over the pillow and Sirius was tucked up against Remus’ lanky form, the other boy exhaling hot puffs of breath over the back of his neck.

_Just this summer._

 

“Oh Merlin, _look at her,_ she’s wonderful, she’s beautiful, she’s perfection personifi- _ow!_ ”

“Shut _up_ , Jamie,” Sirius grumbled, sinking back into his recline after reaching up to smack James around the ear. Next to him, Remus huffed out a chuckle as James stared, wistful and forlorn, at Evans, McKinnon and Meadowes across the room. “We’re meant to be working on _the thing_.”

“Alright, alright,” James said, sitting back but still watching. The four were working on their pride and joy of a project in the common room. Perhaps they should've been a little more secretive around it, squirrelled away in their dormitory, but people left the Marauders alone when they were scheming in the common room, knowing it was better not to ask questions. So, it wasn't uncommon to give the four boys a wide berth in the corner of the burgundy room, near the window seat to catch the breeze, close enough to the record player to catch the music Gideon, Robert or one of the other sixth years were playing.

A map had been Peter’s suggestion, and the other three had taken it gladly.

James had modified a spell his mother used to keep track of he and his father when they went to the Quidditch matches. Apparently Fleamont was notorious for disappearing somewhere, only to be found hours later talking to the Duchess of Oxford or the First Magical Minister of Latvia. James reckoned that if his mother could cast it over the Quidditch pitch to glean both his and Fleamont’s location, then there would be no logical reason—really—as to why it couldn’t be modified to encompass the whole castle, and everyone within.

Peter was the father of the concealment spell Sirius had resorted to using over the summer with James’ letter in the face of his mother. Peter said it was because he was getting sick of getting caught passing notes after being so poor at sleight of hand. Whatever it was, it took a little tweaking by all four of them, but now their pride and joy would be concealed with a quick tap of a wand and a hitherto undecided command.

Remus had mapped nearly all of Hogwarts thanks to his fantastic ability to stockpile relevant information from tens—if not hundreds—of books, and collate them all together. Remus also seemed to have this odd sixth sense when it came to unearthing secret passageways. Perhaps it came from being a werewolf, Sirius wondered, always unable to voice his questions, and maybe he could _smell_ the changes in the air nearby. It was a vaguely unsettling thought, and Sirius hoped he would never need to hide from Remus.

Sirius’ part in it all? The insults, of course. James always said being a pure-blood meant sharp tongued phrases and the ability to look down his pointy little nose at people came naturally to him. Sirius hadn’t argued, of course, had only called him a slobbering little murtlap and agreed the point. Sirius had decided, after seeing his mother’s reaction to the blank parchment last summer, that the map needed some kind of defence mechanism. What it _needed_ was a series of insults, a part of their teenage selves embedded in the parchment to ward off anyone putting their big nose—Snivellus—where it did not belong. Sirius had spent enough time around the portraits of his Black ancestors to know that it must be possible to seal a likeness of yourself within an inanimate object. Not quite as sentient as a portrait perhaps, but enough to capture their speech patterns, their words, their wonderfully wicked teenage sense of humours.

Sirius chewed his lip, leaning forward to mark the Great Hall out with sure, quick sketches. Sirius had decided to be the one to draw the map for them - he was the one with the best handwriting, and James, Peter nor Remus has an artistic bone in their bodies. Sirius rolled onto his stomach, shifting his feet into James’ lap, Remus’ warm fingers on his spine. He thought they couldn't have been closer in second year, cuddled together, but now Sirius felt like he was utterly entwined with his friends, always touching somehow with James or Remus or Peter, always hands somewhere, arms around shoulders, feet tangled.

Hands preoccupied sketching, Sirius’ gaze flickered between James - lovestruck, mouth open, ridiculous - and Evans, who was definitely ignoring him in favourite of apparently riveting conversation with her friends.

“Don’t forget the secret cubby in the far right of the Entrance Hall,” Remus said, pointing to where Sirius was drawing out, tongue between his teeth in concentration.

“I know Rem, I got it.”

“What happens if we find another secret passage somewhere, d’you think?” Peter mused, picking at a handful of _Every Flavour Beans._ “I suppose we’ll be able to add things on?”

“I don’t see why not.” Remus watched Sirius carefully, tracking up the staircases with sure strokes of his pencil.

“Maybe we can add a protection charm on it, something like only us four can edit it—” Sirius paused to chew the end of the pencil in thought, they were much more satisfying to chew than quills— “Whaddaya think, Jamie?”

James was too busy staring at Evans across the common room as she laughed at something Meadowes said—probably a joke at James’ expense.

“Jamie!” Sirius launched a handful of pencils and a thing called a rubber—like a Correction Charm for Muggles—at him, and only then was James broken from his love-sick stupor.

“Huh? Merlin, sorry. Yeah, I agree.”

Remus smiled his Remus smile again. “To what, Jamie?”

“To—er… yeah…” James slumped and rubbed a hand over his face. “No clue, Rem, no clue at all. What were we saying? I was distracted by her hair—” James sighed wistfully— “and her eyelashes.”

“Her _eyelashes!?”_ Peter squeaked, frowning over at Evans as if he could discern something magical and otherwise enthralling about her eyelashes.

Sirius sighed to himself as he tapped his wand along the parchment, where it unfolded to the next metaphorical page and he started sketching out the fourth floor. Remus hovered over his shoulder, watching the map spread out beneath them.

“Yeah, y’know—” James sounded so dopey that Sirius wanted to smack him, but instead he tightened his grip around his pencil and moved onto the Charms Classrooms— “when I look at her I just get this… _drop_ in my stomach.”

Sirius lifted his eyes from the parchment to see Peter giving him a _Merlin, what is he talking about?_ look. Sirius shrugged one shoulder and glanced to James, who was gesticulating one hand wildly, staring over at the girls on the other side of the room. Back to the map.

“Like, I look at her and I feel… like there is _nothing_ I can’t do? Like I want to just… wrap her up and make everything right for her—even though I _know_ she can look after herself, _Merlin_ , I think she could break me in half if she wanted to, wand or not. But I just want to give her the world…”

Somewhere along the line, Sirius had stopped drawing, paused with his pencil hovering above the parchment, and started listening to James. It was a big mistake, listening to James Fleamont Potter when he was on one of his Evans-rants, but here Sirius was. Was _that_ what it felt like? To fancy someone? Sirius wasn’t sure he’d ever had that before, or when those kind of feelings were meant to appear. Would it just occur one day? What if it never did? What if it did and he never recognised it? What if it came and slapped him around the face and he had no clue?

“It all bubbles up in my chest and I feel like it’s just going to burst out and—”

“And that’s where you go over and make a fool of yourself, Jamie,” Remus deadpanned, smiling wryly. He glanced from James to Sirius, who quickly looked back at the parchment, trying not to flush scarlet at the vehemence of his own thoughts. How was he meant to know?

James sighed. “Yeah. That sounds right, doesn’t it?”

Remus laughed and nudged into Sirius with his shoulder. “Oh wait, remember last month, you smiled at her and she _didn’t_ hex your nose off?”

Remus hid a snort of laughter in the crook of his elbow at the sappy, abjectly romantic look on James’ face. “Yeah,” James sighed, wistful, “I remember.”

“Oh come _on_ , Jamie,” Sirius retorted, snatching another pencil from the floor and throwing it at his best mate. “I’m gonna vom if you carry on like that.”

“Alright,” James sighed, finally turning in towards the rest of the Marauders and leaning his elbows on his knees. “I can woo fair Evans later—” Remus laughed again at that— “But for now, it’s Marauder time. All for one, one for all and all that.”

“That’s Musketeers, Jamie,” the other three retorted.


	13. If You Can't Rock Me - The Rolling Stones - 4th Year

Something was going on.

That was it then.

Remus had three years of glorious friendship and now they were acting shifty and avoiding his eye-line and shoving books under blankets when he walked in the room like they were hiding something from him.

Remus sighed and scrubbed a hand through his hair, walking with a handful of other fourth years down to Hogsmeade. It was the first visit of the school year, and yet Peter said he had a Gobstones date (if there were such a thing) with a third-year Hufflepuff, and James and Sirius had Quidditch practice. Quidditch practice was almost never on a Hogsmeade day, and Remus was _sure_ they were lying because Anthony Wood and Dorcas Meadowes were both going to Hogsmeade, but when, he brought that up, James got very wide-eyed and Sirius said _mate, you want him to be Captain next year, don’t you?_

Remus tried not to be hurt, really he did, but there was something in the way James had waved him off— _I’m sure you’ll have a good time, mate, really! Will you get me some more Comet broom polish whilst you’re there? Cheers a bunch. Oh, and maybe some supplies from Zonko’s eh? You know Boris loves you, you sly little devil_ —that made him feel uneasy, like they were glad to get rid of him.

The wolf, even near the new moon, when it should’ve been dormant and docile, was keening. Did its pack not want it anymore?

Summer had been fine enough. Strangely so, even. The wolf had been riled up around the moons, like it usually would’ve been. Remus had come to expect it missing its pack during those times and managed to surround himself with things that reminded him of them. He had one of James’ Quidditch banners up in his room—that _stunk_ of him—a hat of Peter’s that was a bit too red for his ruddy complexion, so he’d swapped it with Remus’ more golden one, and a pair of socks Sirius had borrowed off of him after he’d whinged about his feet being cold and refused to get a pair of his own. Remus tried not to dwell on the fact he hadn’t washed those socks since Sirius wore them, blaming the wolf for the strange need to keep something of the other Marauders around him through the summer months.

He’d exchanged several letters with James and Peter, and apparently managed to get a few through to Sirius at Grimmauld Place. He’d worried most of the summer, worried for Sirius being stuck there, worried for James and his hot-headedness, half-convinced at times he would turn up at House Black and demand they hand over his best friend. But Sirius wrote, when he could, and assured them, as best he could, that he was _fine_.

Sirius had a habit of donning this mask that said _I’m alright, everything’s fine, don’t worry about me_ , but Remus saw it, knew it in himself somewhere, when Sirius _wasn’t_ okay; when he came back from Summer break or that weekend last Easter where Walburga called him home, and he was a little hollow, almost; would crawl into Remus’ bed and listen to him read, curled into himself like there was a hole in his heart and Remus was the only thing able to fill it. Remus wasn’t stupid though—it might feel like that in those moments behind crimson drapes, but it was a front. Sirius had James and Peter too; Remus was nothing special, and that was even more obvious with the way his friends had treated him so far today.

Remus trekked down with the rest of the fourth years, hands in his pocket, Gryffindor scarf loosely around his neck. He’d been trading letters with someone else too. David from the Three Broomsticks had turned out to be a laugh. He was living with Rosmerta for a few years, working up to go and travel the world. He was a Squib, Remus reckoned. Magical family but he wasn’t at Hogwarts. Rosmerta was his aunt and he preferred staying with her over his parents, presuming they were around. Remus hadn’t asked. They had been too busy talking about music, or David telling him stories about his travels around the UK, the infestation of Doxies he’d gotten caught up with somewhere near Fort William.

David was gay too, if Remus hadn’t guessed that from their brief, awkward kiss outside the Three Broomsticks last year. David had forgiven him that too, writing it off as nerves and surprise, and Remus didn’t mind. David was fun to talk to, especially when school was out for the summer and it felt like his days comprised of nothing except waiting for letters from his friends and reading. Besides, there was something nice about talking to a boy who was openly queer. It made everything seem a bit easier, perhaps. But then why did it feel like Remus was trying to convince himself it was _okay_ to talk to someone other than his three friends? Why did it feel like the wolf was bristling at the idea of anyone but its pack being near it?

But, Remus reminded himself, his _pack_ had bussed him off down to Hogsmeade today, doing other ‘more important’ things instead of being with him and doing Marauder-ly things. So, if he wanted to spend time with David then he could bloody well do that.

Remus was a good friend though, so he did go to Spintwitches Sporting Needs and picked up some more broom wax for James. The other boy had given him a handful of Galleons to do so, significantly more money than required, as James was wont to do, so Remus took a detour through Honeydukes to get some more chocolate for himself, Every Flavour Beans for Peter, Caramel Corkscrews for Sirius and Taffy Trumpets—the loudest and most obnoxious of sweets, of course—for James. He paused for a while to peer through the window of Tomes and Scrolls, looking for inspiration as to what he might get Sirius for his birthday. The big 1-5. Perhaps another party, Firewhisky and a big bar of chocolate would be good enough.

With a sigh of contentment, his spoils spelled to fit into his coat pocket, Remus pushed open the door to the Three Broomsticks. It was full to the brim already, students milling about hiding from the impending October cold. A quick scan of the pub found David by the bar, wiping the wooden countertop. Remus watched him for a moment. He really was quite attractive, he supposed. A wave of dark brown hair and light brown eyes, a wry little smile that made Remus’ insides seize. David glanced up and spotted Remus by the doorway, his face splitting into that exact smile. He waved and beckoned Remus over, throwing his cloth down. Remus let out a long breath and made his way towards the bar. He could have friends besides Sirius, James and Peter. He was _allowed_.

“Hi, Remus. Good summer?” David said, meeting him by the exit to the bar. “Circe’s pigs, you got taller, didn’t you?”

Remus laughed. They had all gotten taller, James the most, he was over 6ft now, Sirius and Remus hot on his heels just an inch or two behind, and Peter gallantly trying to stay above James’ shoulder height. Oh, but right, he was talking to David, not the other Marauders. “Ha, yeah. Apparently so?” He shrugged a shoulder and stepped aside for David to duck out of the bar area.

“I’m just due my break. Want to come outside with me?”

“Sure.” It felt like they’d been building up to this over the summer. David _did_ make his insides sort of swoop around, and his letters had made Remus smile. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t what James talked about when he looked at Lily at the end of last year. But was that because Remus was a bloke and David was a bloke too? Did it feel different? Or was he missing something? How the hell was he meant to know?

Outside, Remus shook his head to try and clear the ridiculous thoughts, watching as David leant against the small half-wall and lit a cigarette he had tucked behind his ear. Remus shoved his hands in his pockets and stood next to him.

“How’s school going?” David said, a tendril of smoke issuing from the side of his mouth.

Remus tilted his head and thought he might find that attractive, but couldn’t quite put his finger on _why_. “Yeah, I guess. It’s fine enough. Covered Doxies in Defence, and I nearly keeled over trying not to laugh thinking about your bloody story though.”

David threw his head back and laughed, taking another idle drag on his cigarette. Remus definitely liked that. “Oh come on, I don’t wanna remember that, thank you.” He nudged his elbow into Remus’ side, smiling slyly at him.

“Can’t miss an opportunity to rib you, can I?” Remus shot back, feeling a little emboldened for the way David was smiling at him.

David laughed again and took another drag on his cigarette and Remus’ cheeks turned steadily pinker in the cold but he was having _fun_. They talked about everything and nothing; the same sort of vapid conversation that had occupied their letters back and forth in the summer. New music, some things from the television, all the things David saw whilst helping out Rosmerta—yes, he _had_ seen Professor McGonagall a little tipsy and singing carols with Professor Sprout last winter!—and Remus was smiling, he was having _fun_. He ducked his chin into the folds of his scarf against the cold and found himself leaning shoulder to shoulder with David. He _was_ attractive, with his dark hair and light eyes and that smile and the cigarette between his lips that he stubbed out on the wall.

“Hey,” said David, turning his head a little to look down a fraction at Remus. “How about we try that kiss again?”

“Yeah,” Remus replied, his cheeks already flushed crimson from the cold but now from embarrassment, anticipation, excitement instead. “Okay.”

Then David leant down and Remus leant up and they were kissing, David’s lips pressed against Remus’, their cold noses pressed together. Remus straightened and pressed closer and _oh_ , this is what he supposed it felt like. It was quite nice, the way David coaxed their lips together, lifting one large hand to cup Remus’ cheek. When they pulled away, David pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth and smiled softly.

“Better?”

Remus chuckled and glanced at the floor. “Yeah, better.” There was _something_ missing though. He couldn’t figure out _what_ exactly. But something wasn’t quite right. There weren’t _fireworks_ , and from James’ waxing lyrical about Evans or Peter’s soliloquy’s about Jacqui—Merlin knows how _Peter_ was the one with a solid girlfriend out of them all—he sort of supposed there should be fireworks. It just felt like… just another thing to do. He wasn’t sure he would go out of his way to kiss David, but if it happened then… okay, fine. He was pretty sure that _wasn’t_ what it was meant to be like. But how was he meant to know otherwise?

David laughed and touched a curl of Remus’ hair that had fallen over his forehead. “Glad to hear it. Mind if I have another cigarette?”

“No, no, that’s fine.”

“You wanna stay out here with me?”

“Yeah, if that’s alright.”

David nodded and dug in his pocket for a silver cigarette case and lit one with practised movements. Remus reckoned the case must be real silver because his fingertips and the tip of his nose started itching, but he just stepped away a little and hoped David didn’t notice. Remus watched him for a moment, the easy way he leant against the wall and let Remus tuck against his shoulder, the way the cigarette hung from his lips and he seemed utterly at ease even though they had just kissed and Remus wondered if that sort of thing should be awkward. He envied David for how easy he made everything look. He wondered what it would be like to feel at ease with himself, his body, his mind, his spirit. But then, he supposed, he was willing to bet David didn’t have some Dark creature rattling around in his body ready to escape every 28 days.

“How did you know?” Remus asked after a handful of heartbeats, immediately regretting it and turning his face towards the sky.

“Know what?”

“That you were… that you like blokes.” Merlin’s balls, that was bloody embarrassing. He shouldn’t have said anything.

David, however, just smiled softly and took another drag on his cigarette. “I think, to some extent, I always knew. I just… didn’t know what to call it.”

Out of nowhere, the wolf reared up inside Remus, lodged itself in his throat, threw itself against the cage he tried to keep it so tightly secured in. Remus felt the slam of his heart against his ribcage, painful and sharp with every beat. _You know_ , it seemed to say, thrashing against Remus’ insides and turning his stomach. _You already know!_

Remus stared up at the sky and tried to will it back, baring his own teeth in a threat. He wanted to scream and say _I don’t know, I_ ** _don’t!_ **But no, he refused to stoop to the wolf’s level. He was going to be calm and rational and resolutely human. He _didn’t_ know. He wished he did, he wished it all made sense and he could name all these weird feelings churning around inside him.

_You know!_ The wolf howled, pushing at Remus’ boundaries; he clenched his hands in his pockets. He didn’t want to look at David because it felt like the wolf definitely _wasn’t_ talking about him and the vision of his hand around his mother’s throat flashed in relief behind his eyelids and he did not want to do that.

“O-Oh,” Remus choked out, staring up at the sky and following tendrils of David’s cigarette smoke up the sky. “Right.”

“If you’re asking,” David continued, “because you think you are, then that’s okay.” David smiled at the corner of Remus’ periphery and the wolf howled and keened—that wasn’t _right!_ “You can say it, if you like. Or if you don’t want to, that’s alright too. Gay, I mean. It’s easier when you just say it. I’m gay. You might be gay. Or, whatever else, bisexual, whatever you want to call it. Queer, that’s a nice term.”

Remus frowned, opening and closing his mouth. He supposed that felt right. _You know, you know you know youknowyouknowyouknow, it’s already inside you. Can’t you feel it?_ “Y-Yeah… I think so? I think… I’m—” Remus couldn’t help lowering his voice to a whisper— “ _queer_.”

David smiled like a Kneazle with a bowl of cream. “Feels nice, doesn’t it?”

Remus nodded shakily, still not looking right at David for the way the wolf was swirling around beneath his skin. It hadn’t seemed to settle though, after he said it out loud. He was hoping it would’ve calmed a little with his admission, but it was still pressed against his ribcage, howling. “Yeah, it does.”

“Well—” David stubbed out his cigarette— “I need to go back in, you coming with?”

“Uh—I… I should go back to Hogwarts… got some things for my friends and such, you know… is that alright?”

“Yeah, alright. I’ll be here, for an owl, or whatever,” David said, smiling. He reached out and brushed Remus’ hair away from his face again. Remus thought he was incredibly attractive in that moment, the way the muted, midday winter light bathed across his face. His heart wasn’t racing though, not in the way he thought it _should_ be.

Remus managed a smile despite the way the wolf was behind his teeth, under his tongue, clawing at his fingernails from underneath, from inside his bones, in his marrow and blood. It wasn’t _right_. “Alright. I’ll send you an owl.”

“Hey,” David paused by the door and tugged softly on Remus’ wrist to pull him closer. Remus caught a look that flittered across his face, as if he was surprised by the strength hidden in Remus’ frame and Remus wanted to laugh because most of the time he was surprised too. But he let David tug him closer and dip his head to press a chaste kiss onto Remus’ lips. “See you, Remus.”

“Bye.” Ignoring the wolf, Remus smiled and pressed his hand to his mouth, watching David duck back into the pub. The door swung shut behind him and Remus trekked around the side of the pub, ushering a quick apology to the… entwined couple behind the bins—lovely, really—before making his way back up to the castle.

The dormitory was empty, as was the common room on the way up. Remus tried to tamp down on the frustration and disappointment brewing in his bloodstream. He had come back from Hogsmeade to spend more time with his friends because he missed them and yet they were still off doing whatever it was that they thought was more important than hanging out with Remus. With a wave of his wand he shut his drapes around him, determined to pull away first. Well fine, if they didn’t want him.

Remus snatched his latest read from under his pillow—not the one he and Sirius read together, but one he had been reading himself—and flicked to his bookmark. Remus tried not think about being angry, tried not to think how the wolf seemed to puff up under the pretence of that anger, its hackles rising, lips curling back from its slavering teeth, crashing against the cage Remus struggled to keep it in. Where were his friends? Why had they left him today? Had the werewolf really become so uninteresting now they had just cast him off like an old overcoat?

Unbidden, Remus’ mind wandered back to David. That was a much better first kiss than his others, a much better kiss than their last attempt and Remus found the breath catching in his throat at the memory of it, the feel of the other boy pressed against him. He imagined David here with him—foolish really, he would never be allowed in Hogwarts but it was nice to daydream—imagined kissing him again… Groaning, Remus pushed his book away and rolled onto his side. _No_ , he was supposed to be angry at his friends, he couldn’t think about kissing David or the way his body seemed to be stirring in response to it. Remus bit his lip, surreptitiously trying to adjust his trousers but instead he was just pressing his palm over his crotch and thinking about kissing David, doing whatever the hell else he supposed boys did with each other—lots of pressing and rubbing, he imagined. With another groan, Remus rolled onto his front and pressed his face into his pillow, trying to hide the shame of his burning cheeks because now he was touching himself in earnest.

His pillow smelled of rosemary shampoo. The David in his imagination pulled back from the kiss and smiled, and it was _his_ hand down Remus’ trouser and the sun—no; it was _moonlight_ glinting over the high points of his features. He looked sharper like that, high cheekbones, dark hair, and the moonlight glinting in his eyes and they nearly looked _silver_. Remus moaned into his pillow as his climax shuddered through him and lay there, face pressed into the feathers for a long time.

Overcome with embarrassment, and a strange feeling he couldn’t place but that made the wolf snarl and toss its head, Remus snatched his wand and vanished the evidence of his exploits. Strangely, he felt a little better about being left alone by his friends now. _Ha_ , he thought, _I don’t need you._

 

The other three Marauders didn’t surface that night until dinner. Remus went down to the Great Hall by himself and sat there for five minutes _by himself_ until the other three burst into the room, trying—and failing—to look inconspicuous.

“Evening Rem!” James cried as they sat down. All three of them looked a little dishevelled, but Remus wasn’t sure _why_.

“Good time in Hogsmeade?” Peter asked, pouring everyone glasses of pumpkin juice.

Remus shrugged and poked at the slice of roast beef on his plate with his fork. “Was fine enough.” He chewed a mouthful and looked to the other Marauders, James and Sirius opposite, Peter beside him, waiting for an answer. “Got your broom polish, Jamie. Was in the Three Broomsticks with uh—” you awful liar, Remus Lupin— “David for a while too.”

Sirius’ fork clattered onto his plate to cut through the last of Remus’ words. Remus glanced at him, chewing on his own food. Sirius was staring at his plate, seemingly surprised he’d dropped his cutlery, then he glanced up to look at Remus with a look Remus couldn’t name but the wolf reared its head and snarled and howled and Remus had to look away and stare at his own plate to will away the lust for blood beneath his tongue. _Bollocks_ , one kiss from some boy and Remus had no clue what to do about anything anymore. Across the table Sirius picked up his fork and leant over to spear a few roast potatoes onto the end. After devouring them, he swallowed and tossed his lengthening hair over his shoulder.

“Well Jamie and I practised a good few sets today, right mate? Reckon I’m a shoe-in for that Beater vacancy.” Sirius mimed hitting a Bludger with his fork, spraying gravy everywhere, and grinned when MacDonald three seats down shrieked at him.

Remus huffed into his pumpkin juice. “That’s nice.”

He tried to be happy for his friends, he really did. But it felt entirely like they were leaving him behind. Remus was _awful_ at flying so Quidditch was out of the question, and he hated Gobstones and after that disastrous date with Sophia last year he didn’t think any girl would want to date him. Remus stabbed his fork into his potatoes and sighed. Well, he best make the most of having friends for as long as he could until they got rid of him. Maybe he could cling to James and Sirius’ robes and refuse to let them cast him off.

 

Halloween was a full moon.

The autumnal equinox, a night where the veils between worlds were thin, where spirits gained power and the night finally won over the daylight, that day, was a full moon. No, not just that. Halloween was a _blue moon_. At the beginning of October the moon had risen and shone its hateful, spiteful rays over Remus in the Shrieking Shack. And now again at the end of the month. It was always twenty-eight days, of course, but somehow, to see two little black circles on his calendar made it all worse.

Remus felt like he couldn’t even enjoy the giant carved pumpkins in the Great Hall—that Sirius and James had already got in trouble for hexing to say curse words—or the garlands of mean looking ivy over every doorstep, or the apple bobbing Hagrid had set up in the main courtyard. The wolf was getting worse and worse and more and more feral and Remus felt it right behind his teeth, snarling at every awful joke or surprise spray of sparks or Peeves swooping above singing dirty versions of Christmas carols, for some reason.

Remus ate quickly during an otherwise wonderful feast, one arm around his plate, head ducked down towards his food. Strangely, Sirius had traded his usual place next to James for the one beside Remus and dutifully passed him a third helping of cauliflower cheese and topped up his pumpkin juice. When Lily Evans leant over for a helping of chicken pie and asked Remus a question about their Runes essay, Remus had to clear his throat several times before the words would come out as speech and not just growls. Sirius’ hand took his under the table and squeezed lightly, as if it might say _it’s alright, Rem_. Remus squeezed his fingers back and answered Evans and stared resolutely at the dregs of cheese sauce on his plate. Remus felt Sirius’ cool fingers in his burning palm and held onto them, everything was burning, moonlight burning, silver burning like molten metal, casting him in a case of pain but Sirius’ fingers against his were like a crack in the armour, reassuring.

At the Hospital Wing, Sirius stood with his hands in his pockets, shoulders drawn up towards his ears. “You’ll be alright?”

Remus shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Sirius was backlit by the moonlight through the window and Remus thought it suited him in a way it could never suit Remus. He looked carved by it, alabaster skin, high cheekbones, eyes glinting. Remus turned and paced away because the wolf was snarling and throwing itself at the cage Remus kept it in. Every time he looked at Sirius bathed in moonlight like that the wolf howled and snarled and tugged so hard on its chains that Remus really was frightened it would break them. He could smell Sirius so strongly, chicken pie from dinner, his awful teenage aftershave, the smell of broom polish and Beater’s bats. His rosemary shampoo. The wolf snarled.

Remus paused in his pacing. “As fine as I can be, second moon in a month.”

Sirius nodded and watched Remus pace again for a few heartbeats before he stepped in front of him. His heart was hammering and Remus could hear it as well as he heard his own. Sirius’ heartbeat was like a drum through Remus’ insides as the other boy stepped closer and wrapped his arms around Remus’ shoulders.

“See you in the morning.”

Remus tilted his head and pressed his face into the mop of inky black hair just behind Sirius’ ear. Rosemary shampoo, _home, home, home_. He sighed softly and looped his arms around Sirius, holding onto the other boy. The wolf snarled up right behind his teeth—Remus clenched them together to stop the growl but he was sure Sirius heard it—and made Remus tighten his fingers in Sirius’ jumper and dig into alabaster flesh.

_Don’t let him go!_ The wolf roared and Remus could’ve _sworn_ he tasted blood or something else coppery and warm, something light and heavy at once and golden but silver, light but dark. _Do not let him go!_ Remus’ stomach lurched and clenched and for a second he was terrified the wolf wanted Sirius, wanted to pull him apart limb from limb because that’s what the wolf did. No, the wolf couldn’t have Sirius, not his friend, not like that.

Clenching his eyes shut, Remus stepped back, his spine snapping straight and tall with tension. Sirius’ eyes were _so_ silver in the moonlight and they burnt because Remus couldn’t have silver and moonlight. He _wouldn’t_ let the wolf have Sirius as much as it was howling and _screaming_.

“See you tomorrow,” Remus ushered out, turning to step through to the Hospital Wing, hoping the wolf wouldn’t tear apart whatever it could get its hands on that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the delay with these guys, I had some plot holes I needed to work out, and a few spaces I needed to fill. But hopefully, we are back on the straight and narrow and things are going to get interesting very soon.  
> As always, I would absolutely love to hear your thoughts and opinions. Thank you so much for reading.


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